He stopped for the night at an unobtrusive motel and made good use of the dingy bar downstairs, getting as drunk as was possible with his healing powers. He had been there for about 20 minutes and was just starting in on his second bottle of whiskey when he caught her scent. His head shot up and he saw her walk out of the side door of the bar and into the night. Logan was up off his chair and out of the door in mere seconds. She was standing by a truck talking to someone through the rolled down window.
How could this be? She was dead... but then who was that woman who looked like her and smelled like her? Who was it if not Rogue? His Marie?
He started to walk swiftly towards her calling out “Marie!” as he broke into a run.
She looked towards him in confusion “Logan?” she asked before slowly opening her arms towards him and smiling “Logan!”
He was five feet from her when her face suddenly altered into a grimace of pain. He stopped running at her expression and followed her eyes to her hands. The flesh was melting off of her hands and arms, exposing bone. He looked back to her face “Marie?”
“Logan, what have you done to me?” She accused as her face started to melt away “You killed me, Logan! You killed me!” She screamed at him.
He reached out towards her trying to hold her, to fix her but there was nothing to do, and she melted away into nothingness before his eyes.
The truck door opened and a shadowy man stepped out, looking at the place where Marie had been standing before glancing towards Logan “You never should have brought her here, Wolverine. It’s your own fault that she’s dead.” The man said as he started to step from the shadows...
Logan bolted up in bed, trying to calm himself enough to retract his claws. It was just a dream. She was dead, always dead. Although his dreams tried to bring her back to life, the Wolverine inside of him never let him forget that it was his fault she was gone, his fault that she had gotten tangled up with those people in the first place.
He got up from the small bed and walked to the window of the dingy motel room trying to remember the last time he had slept through the night. It had to have been that last night with Rogue. He had woken up with his arm wrapped around her waist, never guessing that it would be one of the last moments of peace he would have.
Although it wasn’t yet five o’clock in the morning, he knew it was time to get back on the road as he would never be able to sleep more that night.
Endless, empty road stretched before Logan as he road into the morning. It had been over two years since her death but he could still smell her soft scent in his mind, still feel her arms wrapping around his waist from behind him on the bike, still taste her sweet lips as they pressed against his own.... He tortured himself with thoughts of her. It was his own personal form of punishment for the part he played in her death.
Sure, he hadn’t struck the blow that had ended her life, but if he hadn’t left her alone that day...
He shook his head to rid it of thoughts of her, instead concentrating on the white lines on the road as they disappeared beneath the tires of his motorcycle. He had no place to go, no one to see, nothing to do but to try to outrun the past.
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