Disclaimer: This fan-fiction is not written for profit and no infringement of copyright is intended. Still unbetaed, mistakes are all mine.
STILL-LIFE
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
The infirmary
Three Days Before
“Wake up, Marie. It’s time for you to wake up.”
A beat.
“It’s time for ya to burn, chere. It’s time for you to show what you can do.”
But Marie didn’t wake. She didn’t want to. She was lying amongst the bones of history with Logan. At rest amongst the Lovely Dead. Nothing between them but skin and the moment, devoid of memory. He was warming her, protecting her, comforting her.
And she never, ever, ever, wanted to leave.
Though she suspected she might have to do so soon.
But the thing that sounded like Gambit would not be silenced. When she tried to push his voice away burns erupted in her mind, an agony racing through her like Phoenix wings beneath her skin. She wanted to cry out but she couldn’t-
The Wolverine within crouched down and showed it teeth then.
“You gotta open your eyes, chere,” the thing that wasn’t Gambit continued, more wary. The burning underneath her skin had ceased when Logan growled, but she still felt…unbalanced. Vulnerable. “You gotta come back to me- De family needs ya, chere -” And he smiled at her, his body smoking and distorted and three kinds o’ scary- though that mighta bin the painkillers talkin’- while Rogue struggled to drag herself backwards. Further into the Land of the Lovely Dead.
“You stay in there any longer,” the Not Quite Gambit muttered threateningly, “And Ah kill dat homme o’ yours, Ah swear it.” His voice was burning. Pissed and knowing. “You try to hide behind your history walker and I’ll take it out of his flesh, petite. You know Ah fucking can do- ”
“You’ll try,” she contradicted softly, her tone certain. “You’ll fail. Believe me.” In here away from all their drama and history, she felt not an ounce of doubt about that. With Logan whispering in her ear she was invincible- With her in his heart he was too-
But the Not Quite Remy was laughing.
“Ah can take dat boy o’ yours apart without even tryin’,” it was crowing. “You’ll do it for me. Or didn’t ya wonder why that pet shadow of yours could touch him and no you?” And with that she suddenly felt am image blossom in her mind, an image of the battle in the canteen. The one where Logan had gotten three shades of shit kicked out of him, and she’d very nearly walked away without a scratch. Except for his claws. “You like looking at your handiwork, cherie?” the thing crooned, smilingly gloatingly. It was replaying the moment where Smokey had raised Logan up and burned him, the pain so great it had actually made him call out. Marie felt tears prickle her eyes; She’d only ever heard him cry out in his nightmares before that… But the false Remy whistled appreciatively. “Burning an homme from the inside out, dat be some trick you got goin’ there, Marie-”
“Ah didn’t do that!” Marie snapped, her body suddenly quaking. Not sure why but she was very, very scared. She couldn’t have- She wouldn’t have hurt Logan. She wasn’t Jeannie. “Ah’m not- Ah’d never-”
“But you did. You know you did.” The Not Quite Gambit leaned into her, his eyes deadly. “You took de very adamantium offa his bones without even trying to. You coulda killed half de senior class without even breaking a sweat. And of course, dis be what your pet shadow looked like, chere.”
And he showed her the image of Smokey as she’d lain dying. Showed her the way it had turned into the Phoenix, as Logan tried to save her life. For a second she tried to deny it to herself, to tell herself it was coincidence. But she knew it wasn’t. Of course her poisonous power had nearly killed the man she loved. Of course her happiness was a lethal illusion. This was Rogue they were talking about, the luckiest woman in Westchester- The Phoenix reborn by the looks of things, and still hurting a man named James Howlett because she couldn’t do anything else.
It was at that precise moment that the panic set in.
They’d never outrun her mutation now.
“You look at dis image and you remember it, Marie,” the creature muttered then. His voice savage. “You look at what you did without even trying, because you New Reliable’s no trained, you got no defences and Ah’m sneaking through yo mind like de thief Ah be. You don’t do what Ah say, and Ah’ll trigger another one of these episodes. Ya won’t even remember what cause dem, but you’ll remember dat animal’s last moments each time ya close your eyelids, Ah guarantee ya dat.” And he leaned down, eyes level with hers. Kissed her softly. Marie felt revulsion bloom on her skin but she couldn’t stop him. Couldn’t fight him. She suddenly felt terrified to move, to even protest. Because it didn’t matter what happened to her, she could handle it. But Logan? She wouldn’t endanger Logan. She’d sworn at sixteen years old that she’d never permit another living soul to hurt him again.
Not even if that living soul were her.
Marie looked up at the Not Quite Remy then, her eyes vicious. She was outta time, outta options, outta luck. But then that was business as usual with her. She could handle it. She would handle it. For his sake.
There was only one thing she could say to her newest pet shadow.
“What do you want me to do?” she asked.
Three days had passed since that. Three days of pushing Logan away and waiting. Three days of nodding to Hank like she believed when he said she wasn’t dangerous, despite what Smokey had done through her. Despite what she knew moved beneath her skin. The thing had told her to pack a bag and make a run for it: She’d have gone that first day had Beth Braddock not turned up. But she did, so instead she’d been trapped into waiting. Lying. Watching. Keeping people out of danger. Making sure the spook noticed nothing amiss, with that super-duper brain of hers. And keeping a leash on Smokey, since it reacted to her moods.
Stupid telepathic powers, Marie thought then. Ah couldn’t have gotten something simple like flight or super-strength, no?
“You know, chere,” The False Remy interrupted her thoughts, sounding calculating. “Ah no think he bought dat story o’ yours.” And he grinned nastily at her, even as she hauled her bag onto her shoulder and ducked through the sports green to where she’d stashed her truck. She’d gotten through the Mansion in record time, set out quickly. Using the back-roads she knew better than Logan, considering all the times she’d driven to the Mansion to see Jubilee.
“Of course he bought it,” Marie muttered then, trying desperately to believe it. “He’s more’n dumb enough to believe Ah’d run off like a kid. Ah’ve done it before.” And she flinched to think of the real Remy, held captive (her psychic stalker assured her) somewhere in the frozen North. Her trip there the key to his freedom, and the key to Wolverine’s as well. But she needed to stay focussed: This was just like trying to keep Braddock out of her head, but more difficult. The damn creature seemed able to read her no matter what she did: The last thing she needed was for her intruder to get suspicious, and act on his threat to trigger her into unleashing Smokey. She tried to concentrate on how much she believed her story, consciously ignoring the tiny, angry, growling voice of her inner Logan, who was screaming that his real world counter-part would have to be thick as pig shit not to have picked up on the scent of panic in that room. Also cannily pointing out that he might be egotistical, but he knew Marie way too well to believe she’d run off in a strop over Betsy Braddock’s Vulcan mind-meld and attempts to get into his pants.
Marie ordered her inner Wolverine to stop talking then. Stop distracting her. It had about as much effect as it usually, had, namely zero. But the interaction comforted her nonetheless.
“So where we going?” she asked, her heart clenching. She knew this was probably the last time she’d ever leave the Mansion. Her only hope was to get enough of a head-start on Logan that he wouldn’t catch her, and wouldn’t get himself killed for her sake.
“You goin’ t’meet yo destiny, chere,” the False Remy whispered sarcastically. There were times when she missed Magneto‘s grandiloquence. “Like Ah said, de family bin waiting on you for months.”
“And what family’s that, swamp-rat?” she growled, not liking where this was going. He’d mentioned this family before to her, but he wouldn’t tell her anything except that it was where she belonged. Though as far as she was concerned, she belonged where Logan was- Except that she could kill him with the simplest slip in concentration or temper.
Marie pushed that thought away.
The False Remy slid her a sly, calculating look then. “De family be why you and Remy were brought together, chere. De family be why dat no good Gambit be nailed to a table right now.” The thing leered at her, running its burning hand along her thigh and she flinched a bit. “Ah always was jealous dat he got to bed you, petite.”
“Ya mind not distracting a woman who’s driving?” she snapped. Suddenly wishing he had skin so she could suck the life right out of it.
“No, petite, Ah love distracting you. Dat what made de last three days so much fun.” And it hitched its hand higher, towards her thigh now. She went to brush it away and suddenly the smoking, burning hand grew larger. A single metal claw extending from its knuckles, the scent of aftershave and cigar smoke filling the car. “Is this distracting you, darlin’?” the thing rumbled, and this time it looked like Wolverine. Marie stifled a shudder. “You want me to distract you, when I’m looking like this?” And he leered, actually leered at her. The features so much like Logan’s, the expression as far from him as could be. Those eyes held anger and cruelty: They didn’t belong to the man she knew…
“You might not have bones, but Ah do have,” she muttered then. She forced her panic down and the creature’s form grew slightly less distinct, though it didn’t fade away. So it did have something in common with Smokey: It was vulnerable to her moods. “You say Ah have to make it to the North before Logan catches us. Would de family be happy if Ah don’t arrive just so you can get your rocks off?” And she glared at him, daring him to argue with her. Trying to remind herself that no matter what it looked like, that thing had nothing in common with Wolverine.
It smiled. “I suppose not, sweetheart,” it muttered. “The old man says he wants you good and quick, no more run-around.” And it let its hands stray, just for a moment, over her body. Its expression leaving no doubt to its intentions once it had her on her own. “So yeah, I can wait til we get home, darlin’. And then we’ll let the monster out to play.” And with that it moved its hands away, releasing her. Shooting her a vindictive, mischievous look because it knew she understood precisely what the threat involved. And knowing she’d find it particularly painful, if she ever had to explain it to Wolverine. The rest of the journey passed on in silence, the creature calling out occasional directions. Marie drive on like an automaton, so worried and numb that it took her while to realise they weren’t heading to Canada. When he’d said the frozen North she’d just assumed- But it soon became obvious that wasn’t on their route. They were heading into the wilds. And as the hours stretched out and no Logan followed them, it occurred to Marie that she knew this road. Knew it intimately. It was one of Logan’s memories, she was sure of it- Though it tried to evade her probing, no matter what she did. Marie could picture the diners, the houses, the countryside. The- The people. She could picture it as he Logan had seen it long ago… On his way to the closest place he’d ever been to Hell.
And that‘s when she recognised where she was going.
They were entering Witch-Breed country now.