The Night is Long…Job 7:4
Marie couldn’t sleep.
She and Logan had argued, and she hated fighting. She also didn’t want to think about what Logan had said to her, but she couldn’t keep his words from echoing in her head. Somewhere inside she knew he was right, that there wasn’t going to be any magic answer to her problems, but she felt like giving up that hope would leave her without anything at all to believe in.
It had seemed so simple, just a week ago. But that was before she had come here and everything had changed.
He doesn’t like me.
She pushed the covers back and sat up, her breath coming a little faster. Across the room she heard Jubilee snoring gently; Kitty was away visiting her family. She got up, moving towards the window and looking up at the nearly-full moon. The sky was velvet-black and studded with stars. Her hand closed around the necklace she wore.
Star light, star bright…She couldn’t continue the babyish rhyme. She just wanted to talk to him, to apologize and make it all right. Then maybe she’d be able to sleep. Before she could think better of it, she slipped from the room silently, closing the door quietly so as not to waken her roommate.
Logan’s room was on another floor. Marie crept through the hallway, terrified of waking another of the teachers. When she reached his room she put a hand on the door, listening. It sounded as though someone was talking and she knit her brow, trying to hear. Was there someone else there with him? Then there was a louder sound, almost a cry of pain. She twisted the doorknob, opened the door a crack and looked into the room.
Logan was in bed, asleep, but his body was twitching agitatedly and he was making strange, strangled sounds from deep in his throat. Oh, no. The nightmare. He’s having the nightmare. Her mother had always told her it was dangerous to wake somebody up too quickly from a bad dream. She pushed open the door and crossed the room cautiously, only then realizing that she’d forgotten to bring her gloves anyway. She leaned over him, one hand automatically reaching out, but she didn’t touch him. “Logan?” He didn’t wake up; he just turned his head sharply, as if he was dodging something in his dream. “Logan? Wake up. You’re dreaming.” She came a little closer and his eyes flew open. With a roar he sat up, and his fist drove at her chest. She gasped, and it was a startled second before she realized that he’d released his claws into her.
Through her. Marie tried to breathe, tried to cry out, but her lungs wouldn’t expand. It felt icy, where he’d stabbed her; there was no pain yet. She saw his eyes change, the understanding of what he’d done coming over him, and the claws retracted with a jerk. Now it hurt, more than she could have imagined, and her eyes went wide with the shock of it.
In his half-dazed state, all Logan could do was try to convince himself he was still dreaming, but the nightmare he’d been having was nothing compared to the one in front of him. No. No. This can’t be happening. But it was—Marie was there, horribly wounded and now staggering, blood already pulsing out to stain the white nightgown she wore. Her lips moved soundlessly and he repeated what he read on them. “Help me—help me!” He yelled it the second time, hoping against hope that somebody actually could. He heard motion down the hallways, people beginning to stir, but he could smell death on her already and he knew they’d be too late. He looked at her, started to reach towards her, and then her hand came up towards his face. She was trying to smile, even now, and when she laid her hand against his cheek he knew she was offering him forgiveness.
Then suddenly it felt as though his blood was being sucked away. He could feel every vein in his body standing out as her mutation took effect. He couldn’t even move; he could only stare at her as the life drained out of him.
He hoped it would be enough, this time.
Scott and Jean reached the room first, Scott fumbling for the light switch as Jean pulled her bathrobe around her. He stopped short. Logan lay on the floor, his body twitching convulsively, and Marie was standing over him, staring at her hands in front of her, apparently in shock. The white nightgown she wore was covered with blood.
Jean pushed past him. “Marie? Are you all right?” She got no answer, so she knelt beside Logan, feeling for a pulse, and tried to roll him onto his back. “Scott, help me.” Her husband came forward into the room , but he didn’t move to assist her. Instead, he reached a hand out towards Marie, arresting the gesture when he realized her hands were bare. His caution didn’t matter. As soon as she saw the motion, Marie screamed, backing away from both of them until she was backed in a corner of the room, still holding her hands up as if they didn’t belong to her.
Scott backed away and knelt to help his wife shift the heavy body of the man on the floor, but he directed his words to the girl. “Marie, it’s all right. He’s not going to hurt you.”
“Scott, I think she may have hurt him.” Jean gave him a reproachful look.
“Yeah? Then why is she bleeding?”
Jean didn’t answer. She just made certained that Logan was breathing and that his pulse was steady and then turned her attention to Marie. The girl’s eyes darted from side to side wildly as Jean cautiously came a little closer. “Marie? Can you hear me?”
Marie ignored her, but now her words were audible. “Got to—devil’s in her, devils, agents of evil…” She started to sink down in her corner and her voice changed abruptly, rising almost to a shriek. “Fucking kill those bastards! Find them…murder every goddamn one of them—” She jerked her arm away when Jean tried to put a hand on her shoulder and her voice altered again, becoming low and monotonal. “Vengeance is mine, vengeance…” Her voice trailed off into muttered curses and disjointed threats. Jean turned to Scott.
“Get the Professor. Now.” Scott knew better than to argue with Jean when she was being a doctor. He nodded and left the room.
Jean kept an eye on the girl, but stayed beside Logan. She didn’t understand where the blood was coming from; Marie didn’t seem to be injured, and she didn’t see any wounds on Logan either. The girl was kneeling now and her random mutterings had the tone of a litany.
“Hail Mary, unholy child, devil—no! No, didn’t want to—didn’t want to hurt…Mama, I’m sorry, Mary mother of God…Fuck you!”
It was disturbing, and Jean could feel the flutterings of her psyche, wild and out of her control.
“Jean.” Charles Xavier appeared in the doorway with Scott behind him, pushing his wheelchair. “What has happened?”
She turned to him with relief. “I’m not entirely sure, Professor. We heard Logan calling for help and when we got here, this is what we found. He’s stable—I’d like to check him out more thoroughly, but he seems to be all right. But she’s decompensated. She isn’t responding.”
Xavier wheeled himself closer to the girl, but she didn’t acknowledge him or stop her low chanting. He held out a hand and concentrated briefly, then closed his eyes and focused more.
Thou shalt not suffer…
…Mama, I’m dying…
…Evil in the hearts of men…
…help me…
GET OUT.
Xavier’s eyes snapped open. “Jean, I’m going to have to ask you to sedate her. Her mind is in such turmoil right now that I’m afraid I’ll injure her if I try to intervene.” Jean nodded and got up; Scott, ever-prepared, silently held out her portable kit, which he’d obviously retrieved from their room. Jean took out latex gloves, a needle and syringe and a small ampoule of a drug. She approached the girl carefully, but this time Marie simply ignored her, continuing her self-directed invocation. Jean measured out a dose of Haldol, took Marie’s arm and carefully rolled up one sleeve of her nightgown. Marie let her swab her arm and inject the drug, and then Jean pushed her sleeve back down and tentatively reached toward the bloody slits on the front of her gown. She lifted the torn material away from Marie’s body a little. As far as she could tell, there was no damage.
She turned back to her husband and Xavier. “I don’t think she’s hurt. He must have stabbed her; you can tell from the marks. I think—from something Logan mentioned, I think she absorbs mutations along with whatever else she gets.” She ignored Scott’s suddenly renewed look of suspicion. “It probably saved her life.”
Xavier nodded. “But she apparently isn’t dealing well with the other consequences.” His eyes were sad as he watched Marie; her muttering was slowing down and she was starting to slump against Jean’s body. “Jean, please hold her.”
He leaned forward and stretched a hand out again. Jean knew that look of intense concentration well. He focused, winced briefly—and then his eyes opened.
Marie would have melted bonelessly to the floor if Jean hadn’t held her up. Now she seemed deeply, dreamlessly asleep, and Jean gestured to Scott. “I’ll take her back to her room. Can you please get Logan back into bed?”
“I’ll call downstairs and have him taken to the Medlab.” Scott started to move towards the phone, but Jean stopped him.
“He’s not going to react well to waking up in the lab. Just get him back into bed and I’ll come back after I get Marie settled.” Scott hesitated, his hand still over the phone. “Scott. Could we please not have an argument about this?”
“I will remain here with Logan, Scott.” Xavier’s blue eyes looked weary. “I agree with Jean.”
Scott looked from his mentor to his wife and threw up his hands. “Fine. Fine.” He leaned over and tried to pull the fallen man up over his shoulder; he strained for a long moment before Logan’s arm slipped from his grip. “Goddamnit.”
“Try again, Scott. I’ll help.” Jean couldn’t literally lend a hand, but she assisted psychically; this time when Scott hefted Logan’s unconscious form he was able to get him onto the bed. He gestured to the girl Jean was still supporting.
“You need help with her?”
“Yes. Thanks.” Scott hesitated again, then pulled a sheet from Logan’s bed and wrapped it around Marie before lifting the girl in his arms. Jean picked up her kit and laid a hand on Xavier’s shoulder. “I’ll be right back.”
“Don’t rush. Make sure she’s all right.” Xavier smiled at his star pupil and wheeled himself beside the bed as she left.
Scott shouldered his way though the hallways, brushing off the curious looks from the older students and teachers who’d heard the commotion. “Go on, all of you. Back to bed.” He reached the room Marie had been assigned to and was met by a yawning Jubilation Lee, wrapped in a yellow bathrobe. Jubilee’s eyes opened wide when she saw them.
“What’s going on?” She stepped back and let Scott carry the unconscious girl in. “Dr. Grey? Is she okay?”
“We hope so. Is Kitty away?”
Jubilee nodded. “She’s visiting her folks.” She took a step closer as Scott lay Marie down on her bed. “Can I help?”
Jean was already setting her medical kit out on Marie’s desk, but she gave the young girl a quick smile. “Jubilee, the thing that would help the most right now is if you could ask one of your other friends if you could spend the night with them. I’m going to stay here to make sure she’s all right, but I don’t want to keep you awake too.”
“I’ll—okay. If you say so.”
Jean leaned over Marie and checked her pulse. She waited until Jubilee had left before turning to her husband. “You should go too. I’m going to change her out of this bloody thing and get her settled.”
“I can help.” Scott’s jaw was set in a way she knew all too well. “You can’t take care of her by yourself, Jean. It’s too dangerous.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m perfectly capable of changing her clothes by myself. You may remember, I’m a doctor and I work with mutants all the time?” Her husband crossed his arms and didn’t move. “This is not up for discussion. She’s a young girl and you’re not a medical professional. Please leave. Now.” Jean turned back to Marie and waited. Finally she heard him sigh and move toward the door.
“I’m going to be right outside. Call me if anything happens.” Jean heard the door open. “I don’t know what you’re so worried about. Modesty seems to be the least of her concerns.” Jean whirled around at that, but all she saw was the door shutting firmly behind him. She pressed her lips together, making sure her anger was under control before she did anything else. After a moment, she went to the bureau and rummaged through it to find a long-sleeved shirt, some sweatpants, a pair of gloves. She went back to the girl and sat down beside her.
Marie’s eyes were closed, and she didn’t move as Jean stroked her hair back with a gentle touch. The older woman smiled down at her for a moment before she lifted one of her hands and began to work the glove onto her fingers. “I’m just going to get you out of this thing, all right? Then you can have a nice long sleep and you’ll feel much better when you wake up.” She hoped that was true. She finished with the gloves and moved down to work the sweats onto her, pushing up the nightgown as she went. Then she lifted Marie’s upper body and stripped the bloodstained garment off her. She laid her back down and leaned over, examining the area that had been under the torn area of the gown minutely. Despite the amount of blood, there wasn’t a mark on the girl, and she had to assume her theory had been correct. There didn’t seem to be any other explanation.
She reached for the shirt and then saw that there was something around Marie’s neck, a chain of some sort. She tried to free it, but it was tangled in the girl’s hair. Jean released the catch on the chain so she could get it loose and finally it came away in her hand. There was a small tag on the chain and she turned it over in her hand.
There was a number and a single word on the tag. Wolverine.
Jean’s brow knit. Logan must have given it to her. She didn’t know what to make of that. She really didn’t want to believe that anything untoward had been happening, but this looked almost like a badge of ownership.
She pushed the thought away firmly. It’s none of my business. She coiled up the chain and laid it down on Marie’s desk, beside the bed. “I’ll just put this here for you, okay, Marie? I don’t want it catching on your neck.” She lifted the girl’s torso again and got the shirt onto her, then tugged a blanket free and covered her up. She sat looking down at her for a long moment before getting up, stripping off her latex gloves absently as she went to the door.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
When last we left our intrepid explorers, trouble was brewing. It now comes to a boil. Or whatever tired metaphor you prefer.