….remembering.
Broad back, sweat slickened, a powerful arm leaning against a cage… “…the still undefeated, Wolverine!”
Large, masculine hand gently curling her fingers closed… “ I’ll be back for these.”
Hazel eyes coating over in concern and disappointment… “I’m not your father. I’m your friend.”
Comforting voice in the middle of the night… “I’m here kid. It’s alright.”
Gloved hand tenderly combing through her hair… “Why are you so tired?”
Letting go, falling into a strong embrace… “Tell me what you need. Tell me, and it’s as good as done.”
A hard body pressing against hers – skin to skin – touching her, filling her, loving her… “I’m yours. I’m yours Marie.”
Marie.
I am Marie.
The hand gripping her elbow tightened, bringing her back to the present. Her vision sharpened and she found herself staring into the remorseful eyes of her childhood friend, arms aching from the weight of the man she held in them. Marie looked down into Logan’s face, the absence of heartbeat or breath in his still warm body returning the horror her mind tried to escape a moment earlier. An ugly sound of anguish tore out of her throat and she clutched him to her, his head rolling forward to rest against her shoulder. Her entire body began to shake, physically rejecting the reality that the man she loved was gone.
Logan. My beautiful Logan.
Melanie’s face was wet with tears. “I’m so sorry, Anna Marie. I am so very, very sorry.”
Daken’s brow furrowed, looking down at the two women. Something was wrong. There was a cold rage beginning to emanate from Rogue, getting stronger and stronger when there should have been nothing. Nothing at all. Snarling, his arm swung out to backhand Melanie, making her fall hard against the ground.
“Kono ama!”
With a muffled cry, she pressed a hand to her bruising cheek, flinching when Daken raised his fist to strike her again. The blow didn’t come as he stopped short, feeling a strange buzzing along the underside of his forearms. He bent his arms in front of him, staring in confusion at the raised lines appearing along his skin from elbow to wrist. Pressure began to build and he could see and feel something rise to surface until suddenly, the flesh split open, giving way to his Muramasa coated under-claws and their protective adamantium sleeves. He howled in pain as they tore free of the tendons and sinew keeping them in place, his face registering his shock when he twisted around to look down at Rogue.
Her right hand was raised in his direction, eyes burning silver fire. She rotated her wrist and his eyes widened further when the bloodied weapons mimicked her motion, suspended in the air in front of him.
“You’re right, Daken. I am full of surprises.”
Daken’s head abruptly jerked backward. He blinked once, and then a second time, Rogue watching dispassionately as rivulets of blood poured overtop his eyes from where his detached claws – sheathes and all – were now protruding from his forehead, embedded through his skull. He slumped heavily to the ground at Blindspot’s feet and the memory thief turned away, heaving.
Mystique arrived first, quickly taking in the gruesome scene as she tried to piece together what happened. She drew her breath in sharply as her gaze fell onto her foster-daughter just as Jubilee, Colossus and Northstar emerged from the other side of the clearing. The three X-Men jarred to a halt, their attention drawn to their friend sitting on the ground.
Rogue was engulfed in a sphere of white light, the gutted Wolverine held tightly in her arms.
Mesmerized, the mutants watched as bright rays shot out – clear and luminescent – from between Rogue’s shoulder blades. Flame colored feathers erupted through her skin in a shower of fiery plumes as triple sets of pinions burst from her tiny back, unfurling almost to the clearing’s edge to where they were standing. A river of gold flowed over Rogue’s body, molding and viscous until she became entirely encased in gilded veneer, matching strands appearing in her ivory and russet tresses to transform her hair into a cascading curtain of auric silk.
Completely unwound, six enormous wings spread upward, expanding majestically behind her before pushing forward to encompass the motionless form of the Wolverine underneath their spectacular spans. Deep warmth radiated from the couple, the growing intensity of the incandescent glow surrounding them forcing everyone to wince and turn away.
Feeling the brilliance lessen, Jubilee looked over her shoulder and saw the titian wings pull back to reveal Logan completely healed; his face peaceful in slumber. His powerful chest lifted as it took in a reviving breath, quickly followed by another, the previously ashen hue of his skin returning to its natural ruddiness. She watched in amazement as he was placed gently onto the mossy ground, molten fingers running gently through his hair as tawny lips moved in an inaudible whisper before pressing softly against his. Then a powerful shiver coursed through her best friend, strong enough to send a ripple straight to the ends of her prodigious wings.
Mystique stepped forward, alarmed when her foster daughter curled into herself in pain, but was stopped by a wing swooping forward to block her advance.
“Auriel.”
The seraphic mutant stood to address Professor Xavier who stepped into view from within the cluster of trees nearest her.
He approached her slowly, apprehensive. “The Wolverine lives?”
She rose a few feet into the air, uppermost wings fluttering lightly behind her as the two lower draped modestly around the lustrous satin of her skin. Her mouth remained closed but everyone could hear her – an unfamiliar sound, strangely soothing and calm.
She felt it was necessary, Charles Francis Xavier.
Jubilee gasped, the emotion of love hitting her so powerfully she burst into tears. She looked to Piotr, bewildered, and he reached for her hand in support, eyes glittering and reflecting his own confusion. Again, a tremor shot over the gleaming form in front of them and they could see her struggle. It took considerable effort for her to stay aloft.
“Why are you in control, Priscilla? Where is Rogue?”
The golden mask of her face turned effulgent as she looked down at Charles, her fondness for him almost tangible.
My daughter sought my comfort. She found this life difficult to bear.
“But it is her life,” he told her firmly, fighting to keep fear out of his voice at her use of past tense. “Hers to live.”
Suddenly, pure anger hit the group of mutants, sharp and piercing. Jean-Paul clenched his teeth as it coursed though him and Piotr reached out with his other hand to grip his lover’s reassuringly. Knowing the emotion wasn’t theirs did little to make it easier to handle.
Anna Marie had experienced abandonment, abuse, manipulation and heartache. This is how you would have her live?
“She is loved,” argued the professor, moving closer to stand a few feet in front of her. “Anna Marie was, and is, very much loved.”
Mystique felt Priscilla’s lucent eyes land on her. The rage directed her way was suffocating and she gripped her throat, unable to breathe.
You wounded my child, Raven Darkholme.
“I…love her,” Mystique managed to rasp out, lifting her head unrepentantly despite the emotional duress blanketing her. “As did my Irene…very much.”
Simmering gold ignited into smoldering copper. Everyone grimaced from the afflictive fury that buffeted them from the now shimmering figure – a sharp contrast to her halcyonic voice.
A poisoned love.
Priscilla sent her fervid gaze towards Melanie.
A selfish love.
Just when everyone felt they couldn’t take much more, the anger dissipated and was replaced by affection. Priscilla turned to face Jubilee, Piotr and Jean-Paul.
Anna Marie had the love of good friends. She was fortunate in that.
She looked down at Logan, directly below her, and her eyes reverted back to gold.
He had her heart. She loved him, in spite of all the pain he caused her.
Her head fell back as another tremor claimed her, much stronger than the others previous. She gasped, obviously in great pain and her wings swung back to expand to their widest reach, the action seeming to help her regain control. The feathered appendages pushed forward to envelope her, hiding her from view for several moments before she revealed herself again, shining more brightly than ever.
Professor Xavier’s hands fisted, aware of what was happening. “Logan loves her, Priscilla. He has put his life in danger for her.”
That debt has now been repaid. She has given her life, for his.
The professor’s face darkened, unable to hold in his anger any longer. “You cannot do this! You willingly exchanged your life for your daughter’s! You have no right to take it back!”
You had no right to incarcerate me in her mind.
“You were amongst many who rebelled against the control she needed in order to survive! You did nothing to make yourself known to her!”
Anna Marie was an infant when I allowed her to absorb me. My presence in her mind was visceral, there was no way I could communicate with you or her at the time. You are a good man, Charles Francis Xavier, I am not angry with you. But I am surprised you have not yet realized any mutation willingly given to save my daughter, stays with her. It becomes part of her mutation whether she is aware of it or not. And I have been with Anna Marie her entire life.
Charles stared at Priscilla, her revelation stunning him.
He had given Rogue his mutation. It had been necessary in order to defeat the many personalities in her mind threatening to consume her. She needed to create the boxes to contain them - not him - they needed to be of her doing for them to hold. He made sure to remove the memory when she was unconscious, thinking he had erased the pathway she would need to gain access to his dangerous mutation, but now, everything was beginning to make sense. This was why Rogue had been able to psychically shut him down - why she had been able communicate telepathically - why she had been able to re-create boxes on her own...
Dumbfounded, he looked away, the truth staggering him. Logan had given his power as well, not just once, but twice. Now he understood why she had been unable to shut off his feral mutation.
How could he have been so stupid? So blind?
Thick regret began to pour from Priscilla, heavy and overwhelming.
We have all made mistakes. Mine was to force life into my child. And I must correct it.
Charles’s head snapped up. Iron Patriot was flying towards them, Iron Man and Spiderman flanking either side of him. The Freedom Force leader reared back, startled to see the angel he had been searching for floating over the assembled mutants beneath her. Spotting Daken motionless on the ground, he pulled out the Muramasa Blade from its scabbard, making the Avengers pull away to a safe distance at the sight of the infamous weapon.
“Get back!” he yelled, slashing the sword through the air and revealing its broken tip where Daken had the missing piece adhered to his under-claws. “On behalf of the United States of America, I am placing all of you under arrest!”
Spiderman landed lightly next to Jubilee and folded his arms across his chest, shaking his head before exclaiming, “Seriously? Did you really just say that, dude?”
Angered at his mocking tone, Iron Patriot lifted a palm to set off a blast in his direction but Iron Man fired one of his own, hitting the tree under Osborne in warning.
“It’s over. Half your Freedom Force is under S.H.I.E.L.D. custody and H.A.M.M.E.R. is being dismantled as we speak. Don’t make things any worse, Osborne. Hand the blade over.”
“You’re wrong, Stark! This is just the beginning! Mutants are a scourge, an abomination and they must be controlled!” He turned to Priscilla and pressed a fist to his heart. “I have searched so long for you and now you are here, sent from Heaven to help me in this quest on this day! Together, we will defeat these demons!”
Iron Man pulled off his mask and his handsome face reflected bored annoyance. He pretended to lean into Priscilla, telling her in a melodramatic sotto voce, “I think you need to put this crazy bastard out of his misery and tell him the truth about your so-called celestial origins, Auriel.”
That name is what your organization had placed upon my mutation, Anthony Edward Stark. I have no need of it.”
Tony looked at her, wondering if she’d gone crazy as well.
“No need of it?” he repeated, echoing her monotone vociferation. “What are you talking about? You’re the one who wanted a different name to protect your identity, not S.H.I.E.L.D. Personally, I like Rogue more – more sexy.”
“Rogue?” Iron Patriot’s eyes darted between them, lowering the Muramasa Blade in front of him. “You mean this is not a real angel? It’s an X-Man?”
Tony opened his mouth to correct him that Rogue was, actually, an Avenger but decided it was a mute point when Osborne swung the sword in his direction.
Enough. It is time I set myself and my daughter free.
Priscilla lifted her hand towards Osborne. The Murasmasa Blade tugged free of his hands, flying through to air in a straight line towards her and she grabbed it, turning its jagged point to her heart in one fluid movement.
“NO!”
Suddenly, a hand grabbed her ankle. Priscilla looked down and her shock hit everyone like a tidal wave, making them all stumble back from its power.
Release me, James Logan Howlett. Your Marie is gone.
“Like hell she is, lady!”
With a roar, Logan yanked hard on her leg and Priscilla dropped the sword from the violent action, making it clatter to the ground. He reached for her other ankle to pull her down further, grunting from the effort to hang on as he felt his adamantium frame begin to vibrate.
Do not waste my daughter’s gift, foolish man. She intended for you to live.
“Not without her!”
The muscles of his arms and shoulders constricted painfully as he grappled to keep his hold on her, pushing with all his strength against the magnetic pull she was placing on his skeleton. His feet lifted off the ground when she punched her wings forward, elevating her back into the air.
You must understand. My daughter should have never existed. Your love for each other was never meant to happen.
"Bullshit!"
Logan managed to wrap an arm around her knees, ignoring the heat burning his uniform to his skin as he reached higher. Looking down at him, her sadness grew.
It is over, Wolverine.
The Muramasa blade rattled where it lay. Charles grabbed it before it could return to her, the remaining X-Men joining him and holding on tight, pressing hand over hand to keep it down. Priscilla’s anger returned as she held out her arms but Spiderman and Iron Man both added their own strength to the pile-up, preventing the sword from leaving the ground.
She looked to Daken but Mystique was already there, wrapping her skirt around the metal coated claws pulled free from the casings still lodged in his head. Melanie jumped up to help her and the women refused to let go, blood pouring down their arms from where the sharp talons cut through the material and into their hands.
With a frustrated cry, Priscilla raised all six wings above her, the leaves of trees encircling the clearing pulled free of its branches from the displacement of air when she thrust down, launching straight into the air.
Logan hung on tighter. He pulled himself along her body, digging his fingers into her thighs and gritting his teeth from the onslaught of Priscilla’s fury. Using his love for Marie as a buffer against the aggressive emotion, Logan managed to wrap his arms around Priscilla’s waist, breathing in what little oxygen he could from the quickly thinning atmosphere.
He looked up into the solid bronze of her eyes. “Come back, Marie!” Wind blew hair away from his face as they ascended like a rocket into the sky. “Come back to me!”
Logan felt her stop – so briefly he almost doubted it – and saw deep emerald irises before they melted back into golden orbs. He could feel love. Anguish.
You selfish beast. She hurts more. Let her go.
Logan ignored Priscilla’s words. “I know you’re in there, darlin’. And I know you think you owe your life to your mother. But you’re wrong. You owe it to me. So, if you don’t come back – I swear Marie – I’m goin' to slice myself into pieces with that goddamn, fucking sword!”
There was a flicker, then another, her body temperature fluctuating from scorching to warm each time. He felt them begin to fall, his great weight swinging him beneath her before all six wings extended to correct their drop in altitude. But Logan knew. Marie was fighting.
Priscilla flew higher, faster than before. Logan crossed his arms over her back and pressed her small body tight against his much bigger one, burying his face into the curve of her neck. “I love you, Marie,” he murmured brokenly into the fevered, golden skin. “I love you.”
Logan heard a whimper and again, they fell. He pulled back to look into her eyes but was met with the reflection of his desperate face in their gilded mirrors. Hot rage coursed through him. She had to fight harder.
“You were meant to live, damnit!” His heart squeezed painfully in his chest as he pushed past the constriction in his throat. “Fight, darlin’. Fight for us.”
Further and further they fell, upwards and upwards they rose as Priscilla continued to oscillate, shimmer – waver. Logan crushed her harder to him, whispering Marie’s name over and over into her ear like a mantra, the air shearing past them as they shot higher into the sky.
And just when they were about to enter the stratosphere, his body rigid from frostbite, his mate’s scent broke through instead.
Logan bit back a sob, inhaling it deep into his starved lungs. He shuddered in powerful relief as he looked at her in wonder, immersed in the warm green of her eyes. Full of love. For him.
“Marie.” Logan wrapped her golden hair around his frozen fingers. “My sweet, sweet Marie. How could you think I would ever live without you?
Everyone’s face was turned upwards.
H.A.M.M.E.R. and S.H.I.E.L.D. soldiers alike. People in the streets. The police. News reporters. All of them transfixed.
They watched as the golden angel and her passenger remained suspended in the sky; the longest pause yet from the up and down battle they witnessed up to that point. Breath withheld, they waited – for what, they didn’t know – when suddenly extraordinary wings expanded, coral colored feathers fanning outwards in glorious flares before pulling back completely to lay flat against their twins.
Several people screamed in horror.
They began to fall – streaking down from the cloudless sky, gaining more and more momentum as they hurtled back to earth in a fiery meteor. Cameras caught their tender embrace, zeroing in on golden limbs entangled with larger, leather encased ones, both lost in a kiss and oblivious to their descent. They disappeared behind a rise of trees deep inside the park and a second later, the tremendous impact of their landing resounded through Central Park, pushing outwards to where the crowds stood.
It was silent as the sun fell under the horizon, leaving its own muted blaze of gold and pink and copper across the Manhattan skyline.