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The night was a frozen waste, it was January after all, but Marie didn’t feel the frigid night air, all she cared about were the dancing snowflakes as each individual one fell and kissed the earth. She wanted to feel some measure of peace in the quiet beauty of mother nature, but the image of snow just made her heart ache.
The sound of crunching snow broke the silence, and looking up, she watched as Logan walked across the great expanse of lawn, coming out from the woods which covered the back forty acres of the Institute. He was dressed in his normal leather jacket and a pair of thinning blue jeans, and Marie smiled as he took the cigar out of his mouth and threw it into a snow bank as he came to sit down beside her. “Ain’t it a little cold to be out here in that get up?”
Marie looked down at her dark green tank top and cut off shorts. She might have agreed with him but for the fact that she was wearing a pair of Jubilee’s tan Ugg boots. She loved them; they kept her feet warm. “I’m wearing boots.”
“So you are, Kid, so you are.” Shaking his head, Logan leaned against the banister of the back steps. To their left, the lights reflected merrily off the heated pool, and even in the dead of night someone was bouncing a basketball in the court even though the floodlights were off. Logan cleared his throat to get her attention but Marie didn’t look at him, “You want to talk about it?”
She shrugged one delicate shoulder as she tried to determine who it was playing ball in the dark. “I slept with Bobby.”
To her right Logan grunted, “Yeah, figured you had.”
Her brow furrowed and then she felt her face color in embarrassment. “Oh no Logan, I didn’t shower. Sorry for the smell.” She gave him a sheepish smile before turning her attention back to her mysterious ball player.
“I don’t care about that kind of crap.” He scratched his face nervously, “But I’m curious why you’re out here instead of being inside with him where it’s warm.”
His gaze was on her, his eyes questioning, but she didn’t turn to look at him, she didn’t want to look at him. So instead, she shrugged. “We broke up.”
That threw him for a loop. “Jesus, was the kid that bad?”
“Yes.”
“How so?”
“He called me Kitty.”
And just like she knew it would be, the silence became pregnant with barely contained rage. Logan nearly vibrated with righteous violence, and finally, at that, Marie had to smile. At least someone was on her side. She turned and looked at him, saw the murderous look in Logan’s eyes, and watched the moonlight slide off his claws when they extended, slowly, involuntarily, into the night. With a sigh, she scooted closer to him and took his bare hand in hers, reveling in the fact that she could be this close to him without causing him harm. Shifting, she leaned against his shoulder and snuggled into his warmth. It wasn’t enough, for either of them. With a growl, Logan looped his arm around her shoulder and drew her impossibly close, until her lips brushed his neck and she could smell the musky scent of him, feel the beat of his heart. It was instantly comforting, and despite everything, she felt her body loosen.
“Want me to kill him?”
She didn’t smile, just shook her head and took another deep breath, drawing in the unique scent of him and the solace he offered her.
They were quite for a long time before Logan spoke, before his own inner pain at her loss was too great for him to contain. “What can I do, Marie?”
With a shrug she offered him the simple truth, “Nothing. Ya can’t do nothing for me, Logan. But thanks all the same for offering.”
*******************************************************
“So it was Bobby.” Johnny had moved to the foot of Marie’s bed, and his knuckles in the fisted sheet were white with pent-up frustration and rage.
Magneto had released him, but Logan still leaned against the wall, comforted by the building at his back and the room before him. He shook his head, but he looked at Marie. “No, it wasn’t the popsicle, not all by himself, not as far as I could tell.”
“What happened next,” asked Emma, and her voice was low and respectful as she sat perched on the arm of the couch Magneto was currently sitting in. It didn’t escape Logan’s notice, that he had Magneto’s undivided attention, or that the blond seemed to be leaning into the man.
Logan turned again to look at Marie, and shrugged, “She did what all 20 year olds do, she went to college.”
****************************************************
Without her powers holding her back, she’d taken to wearing as little clothing as absolutely necessary, which was why she was now sitting on the front lawn in early February, in nothing but a hooker red bikini. She was laid out on a dark blue blanket she’d crocheted herself earlier that winter, with her school books spread out and the noise from her iPod filling her ears and no doubt escaping into the afternoon sun. The music she was listening too was old school but it still had a driving beat and the message appealed to her newly empowered sexual side. Her sock covered feet kicked back and forth as she wrote out her essay and mouth the words to the song, “Cherry Pie” by Warrant.
The sudden tap on her shoulder startled her and she looked up quickly at Logan’s smiling face. She smiled brightly, “LOGAN,” but it must have been too loud because Logan made that cute wincing face and then pointed at her head phones. Throwing them off she clicked off the music and then scooted into a sitting position. Her smile beamed from ear to ear, it’d been weeks since he’d gone on that stupid mission, weeks since she’d seen him, even though he called her almost every night. “Hey stranger, where ya been?”
He shrugged. “Just got back from Alkali Lake, no idea what’s going on up there but whatever it is, it smells funny.”
She felt her brow furrow as her green eyes looked at him with worry. He hadn’t told her he’d been going there. In three weeks he hadn’t said a single word about where he was or what he was doing. That was Logan’s style, and she respected it. But she didn’t like him going back to that place alone, didn’t like the idea that he would face his past by himself. That place was a touchy subject for Logan, and he tended not to mention it or the fact that while he now knew more about his past the holes were now twice as painful. But while Logan would appreciate her sympathy, she’d offer it later, once they’d had a chance to catch up, and she knew for a fact he was ok and not just burying his grief over a past he couldn’t—or wouldn’t let himself--remember. She nodded, “Something bad you think?”
“Naw,” he shook his head. “Just something, I can’t quite put my finger on it, but there’s a familiar scent up there.” He closed his eyes to better remember the smell then shook his head, “Can’t place it, it’s weird.” He smiled then and kicked her notebook with his foot, “I heard you’d enrolled.”
Annoyance fell across Marie’s face, “Who told you?” She’d been hinting that she had a surprise for him when he came back, and now her surprise was ruined.
“Storm. She says you’re taking some pretty impressive classes, but she didn’t tell me which ones.” He reached for one of her books and flipped it over. Her annoyance instantly disappeared and she wished he hadn’t picked up that book. She cursed silently, wishing she’d left that text in her room. As she expected, the color instantly drained out of his face and his eyes flew to hers, real worry in his gaze, “Kid?”
She shrugged, rolling her shoulder. She wanted to make up some great excuse, but there weren’t any lies between them. She signed, knowing this wasn’t going to be a fun conversation if it got out of hand. “I’m required to take a history class, and I thought this one would be easy for me. Since I’m not so great in Biology, I could really use an easy class so I can study harder.”
Logan shook his head and then indicated the book, “But this one? Darlin’ this isn’t a good idea. You remember what happened last time—“
Of course she remembered, she’d made Kitty cry as she’d given a firsthand account of the history the little girl should have known by heart. Marie cut him off, reaching for the book as she did so, “Last time it was fresh and I was still having nightmares about it. But I’ve been in the class for a week and a half now, and no nightmares, so I think I’ll be ok.” She smiled at him then, and she hoped it was one of those “award winning smiles” Logan told her only she had. When he didn’t seem to be buying it, she decided to change the subject to her other piece of the surprise. “They’ve got this awesome café down the street from the main campus, and I applied for a job there, you know, something to do in between classes.” She winked, her excitement getting the better of her. “I’ve got an interview on Thursday. Wanna drive me? We can grab some lunch afterwards?”
He smiled back, a little cautious, knowing she was changing the subject and unwilling to concede his point, “Sure, and if you get it, I’ll buy.”
Her laugh was like a thousand silver bells chiming, “No way, my mamma always said, if you get a job, you gotta take your family out to celebrate, and since you’re my family, I’m buying!”
****************************************************
Heartattack had pulled out the necessary supplies and was working on cleaning Marie’s feeding tube. She had a cloudy IV bag already on a stand and another clear bag feeding Marie the liquids she needed to stay hydrated. Logan had fallen into a rather comfortable chair to the left of the bed, while Johnny had settled onto the arm of the couch opposite Emma.
Logan knew Magneto was a smart man, you didn’t avoid capture and nearly start two wars without being good at noticing the little things that weren’t obvious to other people; but when he asked his question, Logan felt all that fear come back to him from a day so long ago. “Which subjects was she taking, Wolverine?”
He drew a deep breath, “English, Biology, and History.” He didn’t bother to look away from Marie’s serene face, “History of the Holocaust.”
Heartattack stopped her movements and looked at him. On the couch Johnny jerked to attention, he’d been there of course, watched as Marie had slowly come apart at the edges after those first few weeks. Logan had heard tell of an incident in the kitchen, but Marie had never talked about it, and he’d never been close enough to Johnny to ask.
Magneto’s deep voice seemed to fill the room, “Rogue had all of my memories then?”
“Yeah,” was all he could say. What else needed to be said? Yes, Marie had all of his memories, yes she dreamed about being hungry, cold, wet, and scared. Yes, she woke up drenched in sweat, screaming in German, and rambling about choking on people. Yes, she left the room when the students watched Shindler’s List, and yes she occasionally added another bag of kosher beef jerky and a bottle of water to the cardboard box under her bed. Yeah, she had Erik Lehnsherr’s memories, she had both of their memories, and yeah, she remembered them like her own.
“I knew of course, it was a possibility, however as I did not intend for her to survive our first encounter, I did not give it much thought.”
He should have been pissed, should have cursed Lehnsherr, popped his claws, and torn the room apart to get to him, but he didn’t. Instead Logan nodded his head and met blue eyes that held the pain of a lifetime of nightmares. Both of them had done what they had too, Magneto to kill her, Logan to save her, and both of them had condemned her.
He turned back to Marie, leaned forward and took her hand in his, offering her a soft smile. “She did well in school; even made some new friends. She didn’t try for another job after the first one fell through, but that was fine. Things were going great, she was managing, even building back some of the things she’d lost.” His voice darkened, “Then we got the call from Muri Island, from some crackpot scientist that claimed her comatose patient had woken up three weeks before claiming to be the one and only Charles Xavier, and he wanted us to come and get him.” Logan squeezed Marie’s hand tighter. “At the same time, we get a call from the middle of fucking nowhere—Indiana for Christ’s sake—from Scott, who’s supposed to be dead. So I get into the Blackbird to go get Xavier, and Rogue, Nightcrawler, and Angel get into Worthington’s private jet to go pick up Scott.”
Logan’s eyes darkened, and unconsciously he leaned in closer to Marie, “Scott didn’t bother mentioning he wasn’t alone. And none of us realized until the five of them stepped off the plane that Jean was back as well.”
************************************************
Marie felt her heart clench so hard in her chest she thought she might just die from the pain. It was written all over his face, his handsome, now tormented face. It didn’t help that Jean was running off the ramp—ignoring him completely—running straight into Logan’s arms and thrusting her tongue down his throat. Yeah, that didn’t help at all because Scott dropped his head in defeat before he could see Logan shoving her away in shock, while Jean smiled that evil smile that didn’t look real. Or because Scott did look back up in time to see Jean side stepping Logan’s arms and rubbing up against him like a cat in heat, and she could hear Scott moan in loss even from her place at the bottom of the ramp. Poor Scott was dying, looking anywhere but at the sight of his fiancé throwing herself at his advisory, and Rogue couldn’t blame him, the whole situation was just plain wrong.
She watched the confusion slip over Logan’s features, and wanted to send him some kind of telepathic message, “don’t mess with her, she’s not right in the head”. But she wasn’t telepathic, and even if she was, she wasn’t sure Logan would hear it for the warning that it was; his head got all muddled around this particular red head.
Even now, after what had just happened, Logan’s large hands touched Jean’s perfect cheeks, and the look of confusion vanished into complete and utter adoration. It was actually disgusting to watch, and so Marie turned away, walking back up the ramp to offer Scott a hand. He wasn’t in such good shape, and if she could see his eyes, Marie was pretty sure there would be tears in them.
She placed her hand on his shoulder, and noted that he lifted his head to look at her. She hadn’t expected him to speak, but she respected him a thousand times more than she ever had when he did. “Get me out of here, Rogue, please.” Without hesitating, she wrapped his arm around her shoulder and gave Warren a nod when he did the same, before they half carried Scott down the ramp.
She was surprised when she heard Logan’s voice, saw him moving around Jean and jog over to them, quickly taking Warren’s place in supporting Scott. “Hey One Eye, you look like shit.” She doubted Scott could hear it, but she could, this was Logan’s “what the hell is going on” voice. Good, she was glad he’d come to his senses and was now just as confused as the rest of them.
Scott didn’t seem to have the energy, or even really realize it was Logan speaking; she was sure if he had Scott would have put in a bit more effort. “Just take me to see the Professor.”
Logan’s eyes met hers, and she gave a quick shake of her head and shrug of her shoulders—she didn’t have any answers either. Marie spared no backwards glace for Jean, let the others deal with the psycho. Instead she worked in tandem with Logan, helping Scott out of the bay doors, and down the hallway to the elevators. Logan didn’t say anything, and Marie was grateful, she didn’t like the idea of Scott realizing it was Logan whose shoulder his head was resting on; she didn’t think the conversation would go well.
She could tell Logan didn’t like leaving things this way, but besides one more look in her direction when the elevator doors opened, he remained focused on getting Scott to the Professor’s office. She was surprised the older man wasn’t in the jet bay to welcome Scott home, but she didn’t make a comment, Charles’ return had its own significance on her, and that was weighing on her mind.
Even though she hadn’t gone into the Professor’s office since his supposed death, it was at once familiar and safe for her. She’d had many conversations with him in here, some of which no one but the two of them knew about. His office was one that had been comforting to Erik when he’d lived in the mansion, and so it had become comforting to her. The timber of the Professor’s British accent calmed her as it did Erik, though neither of them would ever admit that. Xavier was the rock, and she was grateful to him during the storm that seemed to be her everyday existence. When he’d died, she’d mourned him, in a very different way than the other students. It wasn’t just the passing of a mentor, it was the passing of her greatest friend, confidant, and enemy. And it had hurt more than she’d ever let on.
When the call had come in that Charles was alive, she couldn’t bring herself to go with the team to retrieve him. Part of her was scared of hoping it would be him only to be disappointed. She’d forgotten her fear when she’d come face to face with Jean, but now as she walked into his office, saw a man that was not her friend silhouetted by the window, she felt at once a little uneasy.
This man was young, somewhere in his early forties with a full head of hair. His features were not the distinguished ones of Charles Xavier but the plain, boring features of a construction worker or stock broker. Marie felt the trepidation manifest in a slight shaking of her bones as she helped Scott to one of the plush chairs surrounding the dark mahogany desk. The man whose body now housed the mind of Charles stepped forward, and on his face was the concerned expression of a father. It was then Marie knew that despite what she saw with her eyes, what mattered was beyond the flesh, and this man was indeed Charles Xavier.
“Scott.” A word of wonder, of concern, a breath of awe that the lost son had returned alive and well, and it was spoken in that comforting British accent that at once soothed her nerves as she moved away from Scott to lean against the far wall. Charles spared her a glance as he approached Scott, before he knelt down and touched the face of his lost student. What happened next Marie would never speak of again. She’d never tell anyone about the sob that had caught in Scott’s throat as he’d fallen into the receptive arms of his mentor, never tell anyone about the racking sobs that shook shoulders that so often held the world upon them, she’d never speak of the painful look of dawning understanding that came over Charles’ face, or the whispered words of, “Oh my poor, poor son.”
No, she’d never repeat what she’d seen in those private moments that she had unwittingly happened upon. The reunion of a father and son thought lost to each other, and brought together under the storm of so much loss. It was uncomfortable, this moment to which she didn’t belong, so she looked at Logan, he looked at her, and the two of them left the study without a word.
Outside, they walked in unison up to Logan’s room and shut the door behind them. Marie went to sit on his bed with her hands knotted together in her lap, while Logan moved to hold up the wall, his arms crossed, his eyes distant.
Finally, she broke the stalemate, “Is it really him?”
Her voice startled him from his own thoughts and it took him a minute to answer her; when he did, he sounded a little lost. “Xavier? Yeah, he smells right. So does Scott, it’s the same smell that I got from Alkali Lake.” He shook his head then looked up at her, “But Jean,” he paused, “She doesn’t smell right.”
She nodded, her fingers plucking at his bedspread. “She’s different, Logan” here she paused as well, not sure how to phrase what she wanted, no needed, to tell him. In the end, it slipped out on its own, completely uncensored, “She’s dangerous.”
Logan didn’t say anything to that, and they lapsed into silence until hunger drove them downstairs.
***************************************
Logan relaxed his grip on Marie’s hand, afraid that he’d hurt her if he squeezed any harder. The memories of that day were hard for him. He’d been heartbroken when Jean had died—when he’d killed her. A part of him had wanted her back then, the forbidden fruit of another man’s woman. He wanted to believe he’d loved her, but looking back on it, he realized it was the chase, the ability to conquer the power couple. Looking back on it, he realized what a dick he’d been, and how much it had cost Scott, a guy who deserved a lot better.
Taking a deep breath he looked out the window at the lowering sun, knowing what was coming next. The others knew too, that’s why the room was quiet, respectful, waiting for him to continue Marie’s tale. His thumb moved back and forth across the back of her hand, her skin smooth and cool at his touch. He’d give anything to have her squeeze his hand, just once, just to let him know she was still in there.
He closed his eyes, she would, one day, he promised.
“Ten day’s later Marie disappeared. She went to school and never came home.” He opened his eyes and looked at their intertwined hands, hers small and delicate, his larger and dangerous. “When Xavier used Cerebro and tracked her down, told me where she was, I knew everything had changed. Because her powers had come back, because she was in Poland, but mostly because she’d run, and my girl would never run again without me.”
***************************************
She sensed the shift in the air the moment Logan came inside. The calm tranquility of a thousand desperate prayers was broken, replaced by that wild chaotic nature that could only be him. Wherever he went he brought the wilds of an unsettled land and while normally that gave her peace, this time, it made her hands clench and Erik’s ire raise the hairs at the back of her neck. This was a holy place, not his place, this was their place, their sanctuary. Logan didn’t belong here.
He approached anyway, his very nature disturbing the air. Logan crossed the room, and her fists clenched in her lap; this was her side, the women’s side, and he was decidedly not a woman.
“Marie—“she held up her hand and cut him off and he went instantly silent. Her eyes rose to his, and whatever he saw made him take a step backwards, made that look of fear jump into his eyes and stay there as he regarded her. He was so out of place, a man that lived by the old pagan gods instead of the one true God. She shook her head.
Standing, she looked towards the Ark and bowed her head in respect. She recited the silent prayer she’d learned when she was younger, let the words wash over her and give her strength. She needed the peace, the calm, but she was aware it was fleeting at best. Logan had tracked her down, to this place, and he had to know what it meant. She wanted to block it all out, to return to the last few hours when she’d poured her heart out to the Rabi and watched the sad smile of understanding creep across his features. She wanted to remember his softly spoken words of hope, the prayer he’d placed upon her bowed head. The promise that not everyone feared her or wanted her dead, and that most of all, his belief that the tragedy that defined so much of his country’s history would not repeat itself in hers. But his promise had run false, and as Erik had scoffed in her mind, she had lapsed into silence until the Teacher had left, and she was alone with her God.
She closed her eyes against the pain. She had lived through so much already, lifetimes of living in only two decades. She was tired, but more than that she was scared. She’d seen the looks on the faces of the people when she’d touched Ian’s arm in the Student Union Building, only to have him drop to the floor and convulse as she’d clutched her head and cried out in denial, in painful rejection that her happiness was so fleeting. She’d watched their faces again when she’d touched the names of Erik’s parents, and the tears had come, and the words had come, and with them, her screaming promise that she would not let this happen again; that she would kill them all if she had to. She’d been screaming in English, so few if any there that day knew what she’d actually said, but her intent had been there, and they had backed away from her as she’d turned and ran back to her rental car and driven to this sacred home of her faith.
With her prayer finished, Marie exited the pew and opened the door to the temple, not bothering to give Logan a second look. The sting of the falling rain hit her flushed face, and for a moment it was sixty years ago and she was watching them shove her mother as she lay in the mud calling for her father to save her. The door didn’t have a chance to close before Logan caught it, stepped through and grabbed her about the shoulders hauling her bodily against him as they stood in the bitter rain.
Against his rock hard chest, and from deep within him, came that comforting subsonic purr she didn’t think he even knew he did when he held her. And suddenly all the tension, all the fear drained out of her and she collapsed against him, rested her cheek against his black cotton tee-shirt and inhaled the musky scent of Logan, feeling the safety only he could bring her.
The Star was her hope, but Logan, he was her protector.
“Tell me.”
And she did.
An hour later they’d broken into a national horror story. Logan picked the lock with practiced ease and they walked inside building six. Long, cold, and dark, it was row after row of bunk beds on a concrete slab. The sheets were clean now, and in good repair, but in Marie’s memory the rank smell of the human body mixed with decay was almost overpowering and her hand went to cover her mouth as she stepped further inside.
Even in the absolute darkness she found her way easily. Seventh bunk on the left, top, because she’d beaten up the other boy—David—for the top bunk and broke his nose; he died later that month from the infection that had set in—her first kill.
She touched the bed, it wasn’t hers, she’d remember hers, like so much else here this was a replica. But not all of it was. Marie stepped onto the lower bunk to get the right angle against the beam. Without a flashlight, she found it on instinct.
“Here,” she said, not bothering to motion Logan over, she knew he’d come. With sure fingers she sought out the initials carved into the wooden beam. They were there, just as she’d known they would be. “This was his bunk.” She traced the letters, her fingers comforted by the smoothed wood, and felt Logan’s eyes on the back of her head. “This was where I slept for two years.”
His hand was on her shoulder then, firm, “No Marie, it wasn’t you, it was him.”
She shook her head because he was wrong, but she leaned into his touch all the same, “No Logan, it was me. I remember it, everything, every single moment. I remember watching my parents taken from me. I remember watching the others disappear. I remember being hungry, and cold, scared, and…worse. I remember it all. You can pretend it wasn’t me if you want too, but I don’t get to pretend. I was here, and these are my initials as much as they’re his.”
Behind her Logan swore, and as much as she wanted to comfort him, she couldn’t, there was no comfort in a place like this. So instead she turned, took his hand in her gloved one, and pressed his fingers against the wood, tracing the letters, “E.M.L.”
“I wanted someone to know, someone someday to know that I lived, that I had lived and that I had a name. I wanted someone, someday to know I had existed. That people had been here, lived here.” She paused, searching for the right words. “I didn’t want to be forgotten.”
The tears came unbidden as a lifetime of grief washed over her. She’d lost so much in this place and beyond, so much that she felt raw and empty as she stood here. Erik had promised himself that he would never return to this place, and so she came for him, his silent witness. He had been poured into her—she the living vessel—but he hadn’t wanted this for her, and even now, though he wouldn’t look with her eyes at his initials carved so long ago, she felt his hands caress her face, and his soft words of comfort in her ear. His gentle voice, his soft native tongue filled her, and she let him wash over her.
She didn’t respond when Logan called her name for the fifth time, nor did she protest when he scooped her up into his strong arms and carried her out of building six. She just buried her head against his shoulder and cried silent tears. Because no matter what the Rabi had said, she had been forgotten, they’d all been forgotten. The world had moved on, forgotten its history, and now, now once again, it was repeating itself.
“Erik was right you know,” her voice was sure as she looked at him across the table in the small diner they’d found. The place was filled with locals that gave them funny looks, and the menu was written entirely in Polish, but she’d given their orders clearly, as if she’d been born into the language and they’d been left alone.
Logan’s fist hitting the table top vibrated the window they sat next too, making the reflections shake violently, and shattering their anonymity. “No he wasn’t, and I don’t ever, EVER, want to hear you say that again, Marie.”
She sighed, running her gloved hand through her hair, her eyes catching the white streaks and feeling that sense of connection that calmed her. “If it had worked—“
“It didn’t fucking work, Marie! You almost died, he almost killed you, for a plan that didn’t even fucking work!” The threat of destruction was in his voice but Marie didn’t care. For three days she’d been on her own, remembering, reliving, and she knew the truth now, even if he didn’t want to admit it.
“It’s going to happen again, Logan. They’ll pass the registration act, and then one of us will do something stupid, and before you pop your claws they’ll have a number burned into your arm so deep even your healing factor won’t make it disappear.” Her eyes rose and locked onto his, and whatever he saw there brought instant pain to his features. “They’re going to cage us, just like before, burn us alive, just like before, and one day, you’ll be burying me in an unmarked grave, just like before. They’ve forgotten, or maybe they just don’t care, and it will happen again, it’s already begun.” She looked towards the window, but instead of seeing the outside, she saw her own reflection. She was crying, large tears rolling down her cheeks. Strange, she didn’t remember doing that.
“We won’t let that happen, Kid.” His hands were wrapped around his bottle of beer, but he hadn’t taken a drink yet, and they’d been sitting there for nearly twenty minutes.
“You don’t really believe that, do you Logan? Even you aren’t that naive.” She gave him a smile, and the look on his face almost made her cry harder. She shook her head and looked out the window again, watching the driving rain splatter in large muddy puddles. “No, you don’t believe that at all. It’s a nice dream, Charles’ dream has always been a nice one, one you use to tuck little mutant children into bed with. But a story is just a story.
“They’ll come like they did at the mansion, guns drawn, and mercy forgotten. They’ll kill anyone that doesn’t follow orders and sleep easy at night knowing they’ve rid the world of the mutant threat. They’ll herd us like cattle into fenced court yards, and when no one’s looking, kill us. Oh but first,” and she turned to catch his eye, “first, they’ll break us. Even you, the great Wolverine. And if you don’t think that’s possible, think again. I’ve known greater men then you succumb to their kind of torture.” And she turned away, because there were tears in Logan’s eyes and she didn’t know if it was because of the vision she was spinning of their future, or the glimpse she was giving him of her past.
She shook her head, took a drink of the strong black English tea—sweet, three sugars, she loved all the things she hadn’t had in the camps—and then set her cup down again, her eyes watching the inky blackness within. “I won’t go back, Logan. I won’t go back to the camps. They won’t burn a number into my skin, 452930, they won’t mark me as theirs again. I’ll fight until my dying breath, I’ll kill them without mercy. I will not go back there again, and I will not let them take the ones I love,” she looked up, her expression serious, “I won’t let them take you.”
Then she cocked her head to the side and smiled. “You agree with me, even if it’s only the you in my head. You won’t go either. The you inside me, he wasn’t all that convinced that Charles was right. He thought Erik might be the right path.” Her eyes locked on his and the smile disappeared, “You know he was right Logan, even if it hurts to admit it. Charles’ dream is pretty but pretty things decay, our way is hard as steel, but at least it lasts through the storm. We have to fight, Logan, we have to fight for the right to survive, and you and I have to fight for the right side this time.” She shook her head and looked back down at her coffee, seeing her reflection again, “I won’t go back Logan, I can’t.” He voice caught and then his hand was on her gloved one, and she looked up at him, her eyes pleading with him to understand, “I can’t go back there, Logan. I’d rather die, I’d rather you killed me right here and right now, then go back.”
Logan shook his head, his hand squeezing hers painfully tight, “You won’t go back there, Darlin’ I wouldn’t let it happen. I’d take you so far away, hid you so deep, they’d never ever find you. I swear it, Marie, I swear to Christ I wouldn’t let them hurt you. And this,” he squeezed her hand again, “Your powers, it’s alright, we’ll work it out, we’ll figure it all out. But baby, you gotta stop thinking like this, you gotta stop letting that bastard think for you.”
She smiled, and then sighed before dropping her arm to the table and resting her head in the crook of her elbow. Her eyes found his again, and she marveled at how beautiful his eyes were, “He can’t think for me, Wolvie, he can only talk to me, just like you talk to me. But you want to know the funny part, the part that makes me smile?” He nodded, “Despite the fact that you’re telling me to ignore him, and despite the fact that you hate Erik’s guts for trying to kill me, the you inside my head agrees with Erik and his actions—all except the killing me part, that part you’re not too keen on.” She smiled a sad, sleepy smile, and sighed.
Then she changed the subject because this wasn’t getting her anywhere and she was tired of talking in circles, “I’m sorry I scared you. I was going to call, to tell you where I was, but everything just happened so quickly. I landed in Poland, went to the camp, and sort of…got lost for a while. I had a lot to think about.”
Logan nodded, his face grim, his hand still holding hers, “You’re not alone, Darlin’, not like before. We’re in this together, you and I, we stick together, doesn’t matter if we’re staying or running, we do it together.” Then he too turned to look out the window, “I know I don’t understand everything that happened here. I didn’t live it…like you did. But I found you in a synagogue, and I know for a fact you ain’t Jewish. Magneto is a soulless bastard, Marie, whatever line of BS he’s feeding you in your head is crap and you know it. He ain’t a man of God if he’s willing to sacrifice a child for his dirty work.”
She closed her eyes because that had been her argument as she’d battled with Magneto that quiet afternoon so long ago, “No matter what horrors you think Erik is capable of, his faith is his driving force. He knows he’s going to hell. He knows God will never forgive him. But he does it anyway, he kills anyway, because he believes that the sacrifice of one for the many is acceptable. His test, is not to be the martyr but to be the fallen. He will die so that we can be free. It’s strange actually,” she looked at her hand and then the reflection of her prone position in the mirrored glass, “part of him thought he was doing me a favor by killing me in that machine. I would be martyred for the cause, and a martyr gets a “get into heaven free card”. He thought he was saving my soul while damning his own. Funny isn’t it, we think he’s damning me to save himself, while in reality he’s damning himself to save me.”
Logan’s deep, and angry growl startled her, “No Marie, it isn’t fucking funny, it’s twisted and sick. That’s the kind of fucked up logic that started those damn camps in the first place.”
He was right, she couldn’t argue. Only death would tell them who was right and who was wrong. Perhaps the entire genocide of a people would secure one man’s admittance into heaven, or perhaps though his actions, hundreds of thousands of people would rise up, become more than they would have otherwise been, and would instead themselves become worthy of that holy place. Perhaps one day Magneto would be barred entrance to heaven while Striker walked in with his head held high, but if that were the case, then heaven was hell, and God was just like Xavier’s dream, a pretty story for children.
The food came then, and they ate in silence, words unnecessary between them. Then when the meal was over and the exhaustion of the last few days washed over her, she let Logan direct her into the cheap motel room they’d rented across the street. Inside, she didn’t have the energy to undress, so she slid under the covers and felt Logan settle on top of the comforter on the other side of the bed.
And then it was too much, too much to be separated by six inches and a million miles of morality. It was anger, confusion, shattered dreams, and lifetimes that weren’t her own stretched out before her and the man she loved. And in that moment, in a dingy motel room with the ghosts of the dead outside crying tears of grief, her own breath caught in a desperate sob and she turned around and buried her face against Logan’s chest. Strong arms wrapped around her, but for once it wasn’t enough, and so she continued to sob and clutch at him, begging him in broken words to help her, to save her while he made promise after promise as she tried desperately to believe him. Finally, after two years and a half dozen lifetimes of pain and terror overwhelmed her, the darkness gave her peace and she passed out in Logan’s arms.
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Across from him, Magneto was simply staring at Marie as if part of him wanted to offer her comfort and the other part wanted to run out of the room to get away from what he’d done. It was the second part that shifted Magneto’s place on Logan’s mental hit list. Magneto was now number three, below Marie’s foster parents, and Striker.
“That’s it!” Emma’s sudden exclamation startled everyone in the room as she jumped up from her place beside Magneto. “Of course, of course that’s it, that’s what it was!”
“What are you talking about?” Johnny asked, too loudly from the window.
Emma shook her head. “I’ll explain, in a minute, but first I want to know what happened next.” She looked at Marie and her eyes went from their joined hands to the thick white scars that had never disappeared from Marie’s delicate wrists. “Tell me what happened when she got home, Wolverine. Something tells me, the return of her powers, and her time in Poland threw her over the edge.”
Logan nodded, watching the blond settle back down next to Magneto and subtly rest her hand on his leg. He shifted his eyes and looked up at the slowly dripping IV bag that Heartattack had set up before returning to her rounds; the tempo of the droplets steadying him.
“When we got home, she was withdrawn and quiet; at least with everyone but Xavier. With him, she’d storm into his office, screaming at the top of her lungs, demanding to know how he intended to keep “his children” safe from the Homosapiens. It got worse and worse, until finally Xavier decided she needed to talk with someone who could help her. He found a support group for Holocaust survivors and got her in under the pretenses of a research project. She lasted three visits before they told her not to come back. Then Chuck decides she needed to talk to a professional. I was pissed as all hell when he decided that Jean could help her. She was a loose cannon by then, twisted, but Chuck thought it would be good for both of them. And for a few days it seemed to be working. Marie left the first session with Jean in good spirits, even went to see a movie with some of the other kids. After the second visit she went shopping and bought a metallic green cocktail dress, one of those strappy numbers with a slit up to her eyeballs. I thought it was a good sign, I thought, maybe, just maybe she was starting to think like she used too.”
He shook his head, “But I was wrong.”
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Marie smiled as she slipped the silky strap up her shoulder and settled it into place. She turned, admiring the half dozen criss-crosses of the straps as they laced from her lower to upper back. The curve hugging dress was gorgeous, and flattered her figure no matter which way she turned, the metallic sheen adding color to her crimson cheeks. She nodded once to herself and reached for the fifth of Southern Comfort on the dresser by the mirror, gulping like a pro, like Logan would have. The hot liquid filled her belly, warming her, making the edges of the room soften just a bit more as she reached for the hot rollers in her hair. As each rod came out, she carefully put it back into the container, not wanting to leave a mess.
She’d put all of her clothes away, pushed the dresser over to the side, and stored her keepsakes in the lowest drawer. She knew Logan would find them, he was good at finding hidden things.
Flipping her head over, she raked her hands through the generous curls before straightening and looking at herself again in the mirror. Even she had to admit she looked fantastic. Too late she wished she’d bought the hot rollers sooner, her mamma had sworn by them, if only she’d listened.
The glass bottle had barely any liquor left, and so Marie downed it all, feeling the burn and closing her eyes against the pain. In her mind Logan and Erik were screaming at her in so many languages she couldn’t keep up, but she knew she was doing the right thing. She had to do this, had to stop it, this thing inside her that wouldn’t let her go. She wouldn’t go back to the camps, wouldn’t kill anymore people, wouldn’t give in, and that left only one way out.
Setting the empty bottle in the waste basket, Marie turned off the lamp and walked over to the adjoining bathroom. The water was already running, white noise to the sounds of denial coming from her head. She made sure the water was scalding hot, it’d speed everything up. Not that it would take that long, already she was tired; the twenty-four valium she’d stolen from the med bay were doing the trick nicely.
With a flick of her wrist she turned off the bathroom light and smiled at the flicker of the dozen candles she’d lit around the room. For a moment she thought again that this would make such a grandiose scene for the unlucky soul that found her, but then she put it to the back of her mind, she deserved a nice exit.
The flickering lights and the cotton in her head made it hard to maneuver, and she hit the side of the tub hard with her shin. Her hand fumbled in the flickering light, having trouble making contact with the faucet, but she eventually managed to turn off the running water. Too late she realized it was far too high, that the moment she got in half of it would spill onto the floor, but the part of her that would have cared about the mess was silent, and so she ignored her earlier promise to keep this clean, and stepped over the lip of the tub.
It burned, but she didn’t care, sank deep into the water and hissed but didn’t get out. The world shrunk to a pinpoint of blackness, but it came back slowly as she rested her back against the tub. She slid down until her shoulders were submerged and her chin rested on the top of the water. She giggled as her dress rose indecently high, and she tried to tug it down, but it was stubborn, and eventually she was too tired to care.
The world was floating, just as she was floating, and it all felt so strangely detached from her. With effort she focused her fragmenting thoughts and lifted her hand out of the water, stretching her mind out and locking on the metal razor. It came to her hand with barely a mental call, and in her mind Erik was screaming at her again about using his powers in this defilement, but she couldn’t really bring herself to care.
The metal was cool in her blistering hand and she brushed her thumb over the smooth edge hearing it sing as steel did, a clear note that soothed her.
Her right hand made the job so easy, like slipping the razor sharp edge into a pat of butter. The cut was long, deep, and painless, which made her feel better, she hadn’t been looking forward to the pain. Her blood blossomed around the curling skin and she watched it for a moment as it flowed from her and into the warm water. It didn’t disgust her or turn her stomach, instead it comforted her, reminded her she was doing the right thing, ending this now before she hurt anyone. With that reassurance she tried to take the razor into her other hand but she found her fingers wouldn’t grip it and it sank below the water like a weighted stone. Too late, the reason came to her mind, she’d pushed too hard, severed the tendons. For a moment she was concerned, but then with a shrug, she used Erik’s powers once again and complemented the right wrist with matching marks.
Then with a sigh, Marie let her arms slip below the surface of the water, and leaned her head against the back of the tub. Her eyes watched the dancing lights for what seemed like forever, but as the darkness crept in, and all she could see were the glowing orange of the flames she felt unease settle over her and instead closed her eyes.
The next time she opened them she was outside the tub shaking uncontrollably on the cold tiled floor. Water was everywhere, the bright florescent lights glaring down on her, and Logan, a stronger more powerful Logan, was screaming in her head for her to wake up. Unnaturally acute senses filled her ears with the sound of people running up the stairs, and of panicked voices. Through these new, confusing senses she could feel Charles trying to push through the blocks and reach her, and all the while Logan was screaming, screaming that she couldn’t leave him, that he wouldn’t let her go.
Overwhelmed she turned her head, felt the cool tile against her cheek now, and saw him, barely breathing, his face inches from hers where he’d collapsed after giving her everything he had.
The anger flashed instantly, filled her with a blinding rage until she reached out with her ungloved hands and pushed at his naked chest, shoved him away from her and began to scream.
Rogue! That was Charles, but she didn’t care, she couldn’t care, and that terrified her. It was too late.
Sitting up, her bare hands went to Logan’s hair, fisting it and then slamming his head into the wet tiled floor. Again, and again, and again, until the water turned pink, and then red, and at that she stopped and smiled. Her hand, wrists healed over into ugly scares, reached out to touch the red and she brought it to her lips.
“Oh my god!” Storm’s voice, she didn’t bother to look.
“Move!” That was Charles, “Oh my child.”
And then it was silent and comfortingly dark. Crawling on her hands and knees, she moved deep into the back of her mind, where Logan was waiting for her. She didn’t say a word, just slid into his arms, felt his strength fill her, and then turned at the gentle touch of Erik’s hand to her hot cheek. Closing her eyes she rested, safe and protected.
***************************************
“When I got into the bathroom, seen what she’d done, I pulled her out. Her lungs were already filled with water, and she was blue but covered in blisters from the steaming water. It was so unnatural, so, impossible. She’d lived through the worst of the worst only to go out like this? No! I put my hands on her face, but her powers wouldn’t kick in, so I ripped off my shirt and pulled her into my arms.” He paused, remembering the horror of that moment, the terrible realization that this time, finally, this time, he’d been too late. “It took forever, and when it started it was sluggish and slow. I took her by her arms then, afraid I’d pass out with our bodies still touching. When her powers finally caught and pulled enough to knock me out she was just starting to move her eyes under her lids. I’ll never forget that for as long as I live. I saw her moving, and I knew she’d be ok.”
He didn’t stop though, this was the end of the story, and he was eager to get it over with so he could crawl into bed beside Marie and hold her so she didn’t think he’d abandoned her, so she knew he was there.
“I knew it was her the moment I woke up. Even though she smelled wrong, even though everything was screaming at me that something was wrong, I still knew it was her. She smells like cinnamon and rich wet earth, spicy and natural, and I could smell that coming in on the air when the med bay door opened.”
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