[THREE DAYS LATER]
Marie sat huddled in the dark motel room, her knees hugged to her chest. The remains of a six-pack of Molson’s lay scattered around her, and she moved the bottle of whiskey into the crook of her arm as she popped the top on the first bottle of another six-pack.
She knew she was a sitting duck. She had barely gotten an hour away before Logan and Wolverine -- now that they were in her head she fully appreciated the difference between them -- became unmanageable. She had been holed up in this motel room ever since, and it was a matter of time until someone found her. Every moment that went by made her care less and less about that.
Marie...
“Shut up!” she said out loud. She knew she was acting like a crazy person, talking to herself. She was too tired to care.
Darlin’, just listen to me...
“Don’t call me that,” she whispered. “Just shut up!”
Just go look...look at my memories...my emotions. You have them. They’ll tell you I wasn’t lying...not about us...
“You’re a goddamn liar. All I want is for you to go away.”
The Wolverine snarled. You can’t just box us up, Marie. Goddamn it...
The sudden burst of rage overwhelmed her, the pressure in her forearms unbearable. She felt claws that weren’t there slicing through the skin of her hands, and she whimpered.
She took a slug from the whiskey bottle, alternating it with the Molson’s.
Drink all you want, darlin’, until my healing fades it’s not going to do you any good. Logan again.
“I just want to sleep,” she whispered, hating the pathetic sniveling tone of her own voice. “I’m so tired. I just want to sleep without the dreams.”
Silence, for once. And then she felt his guilt, his shame, as acutely as if it were her own. I know. I’m sorry, darlin’.
She rested her head back against the headboard, feeling the tears leak out.
“Don’t be nice to me. That’s worse. You’re making it worse.”
A sigh from him. You’re not safe here, Marie. You know he’s gonna find you if you stay in one place. You need to find me. Find the Professor. We only want to help you...
“Just leave me alone. I just want to be left alone.”
You know that’s a lie, Marie. I promised you, you’re not alone anymore...
The memory washed over her, his lips soft on the top of her head, his strong arms around her, his low voice rumbling in her ear as he said it. How easily she had believed it -- believed him. It hurt her unbearably, remembering it, and it hurt him. Their combined pain racked her body, and she slammed her head against the headboard to try to stop it.
A moment of silence from him -- from them -- and she took a deep shuddering breath, and another slug of whiskey.
Marie...
_____________________________
Logan surfaced slowly, struggling towards consciousness. He opened sticky eyelids with difficulty. He felt like every muscle in his body was torn, like every bone had been smashed. It took an immense effort to lift his head even a little.
Goddamn, the medbay. They knew he hated this place. He pulled the electrodes from his chest, wincing as the shrill alarm started. It was only a matter of moments before Hank came bustling in, Xavier close behind him, but Logan had already managed to sit up by then.
“Where is she?”
Xavier just regarded him calmly. “She is safe...for now.”
“Just what the fuck does that mean?”
“Logan, I understand you are upset...”
He couldn’t suppress his snarl at that.
“Cyclops and Storm are on their way to retrieve her as we speak.”
“You need me...you need me to track her...”
“She’s not running, Logan.”
Logan had been trying to stand, but now he froze. “What the hell do you mean? She’s always running.”
A long-suffering sigh from Xavier that made Logan’s claws itch to spring free. “She only traveled an hour away from where we found you before she stopped. She’s been in one place ever since.”
Logan’s unease deepened. She wouldn’t do that. She was too smart. Five years she had been on the run... “Goddamn it. Is she giving up?”
Xavier’s blue eyes regarded Logan cautiously. “I do not know for certain. She has always been incredibly difficult to read. My impression, however, is that she is having difficulty assimilating the results of her last absorption.”
“Her last...” His breath choked off as the realization hit him. “You mean me. She’s having trouble handling me.”
The claws sprang free, scraping against the metal edge of the examination bed. “Goddamn it!” Two shaky steps, and Logan sunk the claws into a wall, plaster crumbling under the pressure of claws and fist. “Now I’m in her head, hurting her? I’ve hurt her every goddamn step of the way.”
He shut his eyes and leaned his forehead against the wall, trying to breathe past the pressure in his chest, the dust from the plaster choking his lungs. He sheathed the claws and leaned back unsteadily against the wall. He opened his eyes. Xavier sat calmly in his chair. Hank fluttered in the background, as much as it was possible for the massive feral to flutter.
“He’s going to find her.”
“He already has.”
Logan felt his grip on the Wolverine slipping as the claws sprang free again. “What the hell do you mean?”
“The information you gave me allowed me to identify the shifter, Mystique, using Cerebro. She and several other mutants are on their way to Marie’s position. But we will get there first. I promise you that.”
“I need to be there...”
Xavier’s gaze was pitying. “I am sorry Logan. But you must know that your presence would only dissuade her from coming. Cyclops and Storm will convince her. We can only wait.”
____________
Marie heard the wind pick up outside. It sounded like a doozy of a storm now, the rain splattering so hard against the motel room windows she wondered if they would shatter. Storm inside my head, storm outside my head, she thought hazily. Whether she was finally getting enough whiskey in her to overcome the healing, or the sleep deprivation and exhaustion were just taking their toll, she was feeling almost giddy now, her thoughts straying in every direction. Maybe there would be a tornado. Was Tennessee tornado country? She closed her eyes, trying to concentrate, but she couldn’t remember. If so, maybe she could just step outside and let it take her to Oz. “There’s no place like home,” she said to herself, and giggled.
She didn’t even hear the door crashing open over the sound of the storm, the rain on her face was her first indication that she had company. She opened her eyes and looked over the tall, brown-haired man who stood in the doorway. A red visor covered half his face. So much for looking dramatically into the eyes of my killer, she thought muzzily.
“C’mon in out of the storm, sugar,” she drawled. Her mama would be proud. “Southern hospitality to the very end!” she said with glee, waving the whiskey bottle in his direction. He plucked the bottle out of her hand and put it on the side table.
“Hey!” she said, making a grab for it. The spinning in her head forced her to sit back without it. “Fine, y’all keep it.” She giggled again. “Ah think Ah've had enough, anyway."
“Marie?” the man said.
She managed to giggle and snort at the same time. “Sorry, sugar. Too late for that. Marie’s already dead. All that’s left is Rogue. You’re welcome to have her, though. What is it people are supposed ta say at times like these? ‘Just kill me quick’?"
The mouth under the visor flattened into a severe line. “I’m not here to kill you, Mar -- Rogue."
She sighed, sticking out her lower lip in an exaggerated pout. "Too bad. I was kinda lookin' forward to that part. Not sure how you’d manage it, though. Y’see I got this healin’ now...”
He sat down on the edge of the bed. "Rogue. I know you're hurting right now, but Magneto is on his way. You need to come with us."
She watched as he carefully rested his hand over her gloved fingers. She snorted again. "Sorry, sugar, you're cute 'n all, but 'parently Ah only fall for that seduction game once -- nah, make that twice -- in a lifetime." With difficulty she managed to locate the beer with her other hand, and she toasted him with it cheerily. "Fool me once, shame on me...no...wait, that’s not it. Hold on, Ah'll get it..."
His mouth twisted. "Rogue -- I was told..." He took a deep breath. "Can you ask Bobby about me?"
The giddiness faded instantly, and she felt the tears spring to her eyes. "Low blow, mister," she whispered. "That's a low fuckin' blow."
He squared his shoulders in determination. "Please, just...ask him."
Marie leaned her head back against the headboard. "What the hell, it's open season in mah head anyways." She closed her eyes. "Bobby, sugar, you wanna come on out an' tell me if you know this guy?"
A flood of images rushed through her head. The man, in red sunglasses this time, standing at a chalkboard. Leaning over Bobby’s shoulder as he fixed something on the motorcycle. A wave of guilt and regret washed over her, Bobby’s thoughts echoing in her head as if they were her own. They’ll keep you safe, Marie. Go with them. I never should have left. I miss them so much...John...
She squeezed her eyes tightly closed, grappling with Bobby’s pain. When he was somewhat contained again she looked back at the man. “Professor Summers.”
He nodded. “Call me Scott.”
She took one more gulp of the beer. “Okay. I’ll go. But Ah’m bringin’ the whiskey.”
__________________
They flew in relative silence to New York, the weather miraculously clearing in front of them.
‘Ro can control the weather, her inner Logan supplied, and Marie realized he was referring to the calm, white-haired woman who was flying the plane.
Hypocrites, Lehnsherr hissed. Traitors to the cause.
The Wolverine snarled.
“Boys...y’all play nice.” She didn’t realize she had spoken aloud again until Scott shot her a puzzled glance. She closed her eyes in exhaustion, giving up on walling up Logan and Wolverine for the moment and concentrating on getting Lehnsherr fully contained again.
She smelled Logan before she saw him, waiting just outside the hangar. The scent of him filled her with longing, and she cursed herself for it. She ignored him, looking instead into the vivid blue eyes of the man in the wheelchair next to him.
Charles? Professor? Wheels? She had a sudden dizzying impression of this man from three different viewpoints -- Lehnsherr’s image of a young, active Xavier with a full head of hair blending with Bobby’s view of being called to the headmaster’s office for a silly stunt he had pulled, blending with Logan’s view of Xavier helping him recover his memories...
She swayed and Professor Summers -- Scott -- put a steadying hand on her shoulder. Logan growled instantly in reaction.
In the cold stark light of the metal room, she was suddenly aware of her unwashed body, her greasy hair, the dark smudges under each eye that a healing factor seemed unwilling to fix. She looked at the impeccably dressed Professor, the man who had been pulling all the strings, and let an icy tendril of fury brace her.
She shook Scott’s hand off her shoulder and lifted her chin. “Ah’m here, and Ah’ll stay here for now. But Ah’m not interested in helpin’ you right now.” For the first time she looked at Logan, his hazel eyes staring intently into hers, his expression unreadable. She looked back into Xavier’s eyes. “And he stays the hell away from me.”
She heard his growl, smelled his anger and...pain?...and ignored it, staring steadily at Xavier. His eyes were kind and sympathetic, and she hated him more for it. “Understood.”
She walked on, pride propelling her forward, knowing she had no idea which way she was going. A brief commotion behind her, and rapid footsteps brought the beautiful white-haired woman to her side. “My name is Ororo Munroe. They also call me Storm.” She smiled, and Marie felt some of her fury fade at the gentle sincere warmth of her expression. “Let me show you to your room.”
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Okay, this chapter was written last week, so I'm going ahead and posting it. Just a warning, though, the next chapter is giving me more trouble than the rest of the story put together, so please forgive if the next update is late. I've never had such a difficult time with a chapter. Anyway, thanks for reading!
Chapter End Notes:
Please review! :-D