"Forty-eight, Forty-nine, Fifty," gasped Marie, words coinciding with the pushups that were the second to last exercise in her daily workout. She rolled onto her back to round out the routine with crunches just as the radio changed songs from some unknown up and coming band to Queen's 'Fat Bottomed Girls'. "Hey now," she said, locking eyes with her blue, fuzzy, stuffed rabbit, left over from childhood, where it was perched on her bed, laughing at her "that's was not at all called for." Ditching the rest of the crunches, she let out a groan as she rolled to her feet and shoved the rabbit under the pillow as punishment for backstabbing her and aligning with the DJ. "See if I talk to you for the rest of the day."
She stripped out of her dirty workout clothes and spread a towel on the floor of her attic room in the rectangle of Mississippi sunlight shining through a skylight, flopping onto her stomach with a moan of bliss. She grabbed the remote for her stereo, left intentionally within reach, and flipped to her Beach Boys CD, setting the scene a little better. "Isn't this awesome Norbert?" she asked the rabbit, haven't evidently forgotten he was currently banished to reaches unknown under her pillow. "I have the beach all to myself today. No one around to bother me. Naked skin, out and proud, with not one soul to brush up against it and get eaten." Her false cheeriness sounded flat even to her own ears, so she wasn't convinced that she had made a believer out of Norbert. Oh well.
Marie pulled her brown hair into a more secure ponytail, getting the sweaty loose wisps out of her face, and thought through the rest of her day. Glancing at the homemade calendar on the wall by the stairs, she noted that it was Friday. "Well, guess that means it's laundry day. Can't have it getting away from me. Next thing you know, I'll be out of clean clothes." She turned onto her back, soaking up the Vitamin D that a medical text, read to pass the time one day, said was so important to the body. She snorted. Either way, the sun felt amazing on her skin. "It's getting awfully close to inventory day too. Maybe I'll try to get that done today before I settle in for a date with Shakespeare. Gonna help me this time Norbert?" She dragged her eyes to the bed and felt a slight moment of panic to find her friend missing before she remembered the reason. Maybe she would let him come back early, just this once. Then she could have assistance counting all her supplies.
"I don't get paid enough for this," Logan muttered to himself as he turned to the back seat, attempting to glare quietness out of the wonder twins. Jubilee was back there, words flying out of her mouth at a rate faster than hummingbird wings, relaying to Kitty, and the world, the latest goings on in her relationship with Remy. Noticing his glare, she managed to take it down a couple of decibels, but continued her rambling. He turned back to the road. Scott had thought it was a great idea to have Logan and the terrible twosome take this road trip to New Orleans to drop off Remy for a short visit home. Evidently the thief had some things to take care of and Xavier wanted someone native to the area to hang out and gauge the general feeling of the populace toward mutants.
Lately, Scott had been trying to foster good feelings between the newest members of the X-Men team and those more senior. Logan could have told him that a 40 some hour road trip was not the best choice for bonding time with the Wolverine. Sure the wonder twins did hold a special place in his heart, the two of them having pretty much glued themselves to him when he first arrived at the mansion messed up from the lab, but he didn't do well with forced together time. Also, you would think that Scott could have picked a different team member for them to bond with, seeing as they were already attached to Logan like leaches (albeit, ones that he kinda liked). Oh well. They were just leaving New Orleans now. If he was lucky, he might be able to convince the jellybean to drive for a little while, then they wouldn't even have to stop for the night and could cut the trip down into a four day excursion instead of the originally planned five.
One way or another though, he was gonna find a place to stop for dinner that served beer. The Cajun had taken them to some fancy ass place in New Orleans that had "de finest wine a petite could ask for" causing Logan to almost pummel him for the bedroom eyes thrown at Jubes, but it didn't serve beer. Steak and wine were never meant to go together, something people just didn't get. He grunted. First order of business, get out of Louisiana. Secondly, find real food.
Marie was just humming along with her 'Hair' soundtrack and hanging her last pair of socks over the rod of the shower curtain when she heard a shuffling at the bottom of the stairs that warned of her dinner delivery. She quickly picked up the washing board and hung it from its nail beside the tub, before drying her hands on a towel. Running out of the bathroom, she hooked her hand around the railing at the top of the stairs and flung herself down the steps in a well-practiced rush.
"Evening mother," she sneered through the locked door at the bottom of the stairs, to be met with the expected response of silence. Marie heard a sigh and the creek of the meal slot at the bottom of the door as her mother pushed things through it. She blinked at the full jar of peanut butter, bag of oranges and loaf of bread, used to more meager rations. "Why so much, mother?"
A fist pounded the door. "You know you are no daughter of mine. Do not call me mother. My daughter died the day you came and possessed her body with your unholy spirit. It's the devil in you girl and I did not birth a devil. If we weren't good Christian folk, we would have put you down when you first took over our beautiful daughter. But murder is a sin against God." An angry exhale proceeded the next bit. "John-David and I are going away for the weekend, for the first time in four years thanks to you. This is what you have to eat. Don't be greedy and gobble it all at once because there is no one here that you can ask for more."
"Wouldn't dream of asking, MOTHER. I don't ask you for anything, not anymore. Haven't even asked you to let me out of this prison you call an attic at all this past year. Quite a difference from the first 3 years, huh? You could just fucking let... Oww!" The last forced out of her mouth from pain as her mother walloped her in the ankle through the slot with the broom handle. "Don't you take that tone with me you rotten thing! I will go get John-David and he will come teach you another lesson, if that's what you want!"
Marie shut up. It had been really difficult to splint he arm with an old bed sheet and a piece of her bookshelf the last time her father had come in to "teach her to mind". She shuddered as her mother's voice started back in. "Now, we're leaving. Maybe God will bless us all and the house will burn down while we are away." Marie heard her turn to walk away and sucked in a breath.
"Mother! I am a freak. Hath not a freak eyes? If you prick us, do we not bleed? If you tickle us, do we not laugh? If you poison us, do we not die? And if you wrong us, do we not revenge? If we are like you in the rest, we will resemble you in that."
She heard a bang of something hitting the door and her mother muttering about her never having the chance to enact revenge, both bringing a slight smile to her face. Marie was continuing her Shakespeare quote in her head while bending over to pick up the food when she noticed a shiny glint peeking out from under the bread, causing hope mixed with panic to swell in her chest. She grabbed the butter knife, trying to bend it this way and that, checking the rigidity. Almost no give. Excellent. They had finally made their last mistake.
The Wolverine & Rogue Fanfiction Archive
Barely Legal Since 2000
Story Notes:
In one shape or another, this bunny has been harassing me for over a year. I figured I'm gonna try to beat him into submission.
Author's Chapter Notes:
I told you Marie was a little crazy right?
Chapter End Notes:
She kinda has a Shakespeare thing.
"I'm a freak" quote from The Merchant of Venice (it's actually "I'm a Jew" in the play)
"I'm a freak" quote from The Merchant of Venice (it's actually "I'm a Jew" in the play)