Marie draws on her gloves and takes a look at herself in the full-length mirror. She tucks a stray strand of white hair back into the knot on top of her head, remembering when her only white hairs were a single streak on either side of her face.
She fiddles with the straps of her heather-green evening dress, suitably modest for a woman her age yet still rather daring considering the nature of her skin. Almost fifty years of living with her mutation have turned her into a very careful woman, and a very confident one as well. She stopped hiding a long time ago.
Slipping on her best shoes and retrieving her purse from the chair by the door, she exits her apartment.
On the street, she pulls the invitation out of her purse to check the address one more time. When the cab pulls over, she climbs in and gives the driver the address.
It's Scott's address. He and his wife Diana are hosting a party to celebrate the tenth anniversary of the Mutant Rights Act - the culmination of a four-decades-long battle for equality, freedom, and understanding that began when Marie was just a teenager and Scott was a young man in love with a red-headed doctor.
Marie smiles to herself, thinking how the individual days and weeks of her life sometimes seemed to pass so slowly and yet somehow the years themselves have flown. Thinking about things that happened those many years ago, she remembers them as she would a movie she had seen or a story she had been told, as if it's about another person. A person she knows well, but is not herself.
She remembers her time at Xavier's "mutant high" fondly - two years that increased her confidence, gave her a desire for learning that served her well in college, and introduced her to some people who would become life-long friends.
She has seen these friends marry, create children, sometimes lose each other to death or divorce. Her life has been a little different than most. Sometimes she has been pitied, sometimes she pitied herself, but she knows that she has lived the life she was intended to lead. She is not a religious woman, but she has always been interested in the lives of those who forego physical love for their religious beliefs. She has been friends with a few nuns over the years, fascinated with the contrast between their choice and her lack thereof. Like her religiously celibate friends, she has always directed a lot of her energy outward to society - with no lover and family to put her energy into, not even pets other than fish, she has been able to devote large parts of her life to political action and to helping those who tend to fall through the cracks of a community. She played a significant role in the eventual success of the Mutant Rights Act, and will be recognized and praised by many of tonight's partygoers.
The cab pulls up in front of a small house on a large tree-lined lot. Many cars are parked out front, and light glows invitingly from all the house windows. Marie pays the cab fare and turns toward the house. She has not visited Scott and Diana here before it is the home they recently chose for their retirement. Marie pauses on the path, listening to the muted voices from inside, the tinkling of glasses and occasional bark of laughter. She has always enjoyed the fringes of a good party more than the center of it -finds it more romantic.
"Gonna come in, or just stand there lookin' pretty all night?"
A dark figure moves on the porch. Logan steps down the three wooden steps to the path where Marie stands.
She laughs softly. "Hello, stranger. Come give an old lady a hug, won't you?"
The draw together and share a long hug. She plants a quick kiss on the hair by his temple and pulls away. He pokes awkwardly at the strand of hair that has again come loose from her knot, until she reaches up and puts it back in place again.
He is an old man now. Not to look at, of course - he can still turn heads of women and men of all ages. But he has lived all the same years that Marie has, and those who know him can see it. It is revealed in his eyes, his tone of voice, his mannerisms, and a certain relaxation that was never present in him as a young man.
In his own way, Logan has lived as solitary a life as Marie. He can (and as a younger man often did) enjoy physical relationships, but he has never been able to settle down with anyone. He has always been a loner in both body and spirit, set apart from others by the metal in his body and the restlessness of his soul. Had he ever wanted to live with a woman, Marie would have been his choice - but a man whose nightmares can send eight-inch knives out through every knuckle does not make a safe bed partner, and a woman whose skin can suck the life out of a man makes an even worse one. Besides all that, when Marie was young and in love with him he had been too caught up in searching for his past, fighting for his life, and raging at the world in general.
"Logan, my dear. Look at you, all dressed up for the occasion," she teases, gesturing at his tie.
He fumbles at it with one hand, smiles sheepishly. "After a few drinks, I'm sure it will end up in one of Scooter's house plants."
Marie rests her gloved hand in the crook of Logan's elbow, and he turns toward the house. Arm in arm, they mount the porch steps.
"Well, Sugar, you'll get through it. And next weekend why don't you come over to my apartment for a more relaxed time? I'll make that lamb dish you like so much, and you can take me out for dessert after."
"Sounds like a plan." He opens the door for her and they enter the party, two old friends who have made the most of the lives they've been handed.
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