Author's Chapter Notes:
A glimpse into Logan and Marie's new lives. There is a somewhat obscure cameo in this chapter
Another battlefield, another war, years ago he supposedly saved the future... since then it’s been one battle after another. He is not even sure if what he did actually make any difference. It certainly did not seem so here, in the ruined lobby of Grand Novigrad Hotel, at the middle of the capital city of Sokovia, where he sit and waits.


Dreaded rumble of distant artillery sets the entire room on edge. The huddled mass of young conscripts, smelling of death and despair, draw tighter together, in fear or perhaps comfort. The rebels are looming in the suburbs; they’re expected to assault the city any time now, the final throes of a vicious war.


Logan feels a hint pity for these soldiers, the war is practically over, everyone who is anyone knows it. He got paid up front, when this war is over, all he has to do is to fight his way out and leave. But these kids, they have nowhere to go, their homes are in ruins. Even if they survive, it's unlikely they will have much of a future, having fought on the losing side of the war.


The entire building shakes, dust and debris fall from the ceiling. The shelling is finally reaching them. Logan ignores the spike in the stench, terror is filling the room. The bombardment is sustained and concentrated, he immediately realizes that this is it, the rebels wouldn’t expend this much munitions in a feint, the final assault has begun.


“They’re attacking!” A young lieutenant rush into the room, in total panic, yelling in Sokovian. “There is no contact with HQ. What should we do?”


He looks directly at Logan, his eyes pleading. Taking his cue, rest of his platoon automatically looks to Logan as well. Rubbing his forehead, Logan sighs, commanding these green conscripts, some as young as sixteen years old, is not something he wanted to do. But his squad left early, leaving him without his own command. Logan could have left with his squad, but he was paid until the end of the week, and if nothing else he is a man of his word. His gaze wanders the room, meeting the eyes of every soldier.


“Okay, everyone does exactly what I say when I say it. If you're not good with that, then you find your own way,” Logan growls out, in flawless Sokovian. Everyone in the room nods, hanging on his every word. “Grab your gear, double check your weapons and ammo, and take only what you need. We move out right after the first wave hits our position.”


The platoon scrambles to their task, and the young officer approaches him.


“We are attacking? I thought you're helping us escape,” he whispers, his voice trembling.


“You think you can outrun their motorized rifle platoons?” The officer swallows and shakes his head. Logan presses his point home. “Their best troops will be racing east. Once we punch a hole through that frontline, we can cut straight through their rear echelon. You’ll be home free, and I’ll be at the border in less than a week.”


The young officer nods numbly and turns to leave, but Logan grabs his shoulder, he turns, fear in his eyes. Logan reaches for the officer’s shirt pocket and retrieves two knock off Cubans and grins. “Down payment for my services.”






It actually took an entire week, and half the platoon just to push past the front. The rebels were far better equipped and trained than Logan expected. This significant increase in combat quality of rebel troops, at this stage of the war, would normally raise alarm bells in Logan's head, but his contract expired two days ago and he is just beyond caring. The remaining soldiers all went their separate ways shortly after they passed the front. He is just three days from the border now, in civilian clothing, he expects an easy trip through.


Crouching before a small fire inside a damp, crumbling barn, he waits for the last of his rations to heat up. Pitter patter of small feet reaches his ears, cutting through the sounds of rain splattering on mud. The distinct sound of army boots slugging through soggy soil follows. He readies himself just as the barn door bursts open; a young girl with flaming red hair and haunted greens eyes set against a gaunt face rushes in. She closes the door and braces her frail body against it to no effect. She lands on her face moments later, when the door is kicked in. Three tall, muscular soldiers walk in smirking at the sight of the girl sprawled in the mud.


They stop when they spot Logan still crouched in front of his dinner. The lead soldier steps forward, raising his weapon, but one of the other soldiers stops him with a hand on his shoulder. He leans in and whispers. The leader's eyes appraise Logan with a new curiosity.


“My friend here says you’re the Wolverine.” The leader’s Sokovian was accented, heavily. Logan was quick to place him, he must be a Ukrainian. While foreign fighters are not uncommon here, after all, Logan was one himself, the gear these men carry sets them apart from normal grunts.


“What of it?” Logan extends his sense outward, hearing and smelling nothing else but the rain, mud, and rotting wood. The rain is interfering with his abilities, but Logan doesn't want the sound of gunfire drawing in curious soldiers, so he stays his hand.


“I heard rumors, that you kill entire platoons of men. By yourself.” By his body language and smell, it’s obvious the leader did not believe it.


“Yer point?” Logan glared back. The other two men edge away, nervously glancing between Logan and their commander.


“You're contracted with the former government is expired, yes?” Still confident, brash even, the officer practically sneers. Logan nods, he has a good idea what's going to happen next, their intentions are pretty plain, even without his superior senses.


“We leave with this girl, peacefully and in exchange, we don't report-” He is stopped again by his friends, who quickly drop two solid Good Delivery gold bars onto the ground. The heavy glimmering metal sinks partly into the muddy soil.


“Please pardon my friend, he is an idiot.” The leader gives his friend an annoying glance but does not interrupt. “These gold bars, are the payments for disturbing your dinner.”


“And for letting you take the girl.” Logan completes their offer for them.


The said girl who has at this point stayed perfectly still, looks at him. Despair flashes in her eyes before it disappears behind fierce determination and anger. Logan smells her decision before she even makes it. He almost chuckles, not many people dare to look at him like that, she is young and hasn't a clue as to who he is, but she’s got guts.


“That's a lot of money for one skinny waif.” Logan eyes the gold while making subtle changes to his stance.


“Yes, it is.” The second man replies. This is no ordinary girl, Logan knows that now. If he leaves her to these men, she will be in for far worse than the usual beating and raping. For a moment Logan considers sitting this one out, the gold bars are worth at least a hundred grand each, and two of the three soldiers have some sense in their heads. Could be among the easiest money he’s ever made.


The young girl seems to notice something and tenses, still staring at him, ready for whatever may happen. It was the look in her eyes that made the decision for Logan. He's seen that look before; determination and hope. Marie had this look in her eyes the last time he saw her, right before he was sent back. Just like Marie, this girl hasn’t given into despair. Not like the soldiers he led through the ruins of Novi Grad, not like this entire damned country.


His combat knife flew from his hand, and Logan was in motion. In the time took for the knife to embed itself in the chest of the leader, Logan was already covered half the distance between him and the barn door. The two remaining men futilely attempt to sight him with their guns, but it is already over.


Logan’s claws flash before him, severing a hand from each man at the wrist and cleaving through their assault rifles. Sweeping the leg out from under the man on the right, Logan head butts him as he falls, breaking his nose and fracturing his skull. The remaining man attempts to draw his pistol, Logan was faster, though, his claws drove through the man’s solar plexus before the gun even left its holster.


He stood over the three dead bodies, blood dripping from his claws, he turns and his eyes fall on the girl, who simply stares back. The cover to his food canister pops and the girl jumps with a squeal, eyes wide in shock. Logan can hear the pounding of her heart. Soon the delicious scent of salted pork on rice wafts into the room and the girl's stomach growls loudly. Logan grins, the tension in the room completely evaporates.


“Spoon is in the green bag, eat up.” Digging up some dried rations Logan watches as the young girl tentatively tastes the food, gasping in delight, she shovels the food into her mouth with gusto.






With a child in tow, Logan drastically reduces his pace. The planned three-day trip is looking more and more like a week long one. But the girl proves to be an acceptable company, she is quite observant with a penchant for mischief. She is naturally stealthy, and Logan found he needed to actively pay attention to her or she would slip underneath his notice and pilfer through his packs.


“Ava, stop that.” The young girl jumped away and stopping immediately. With an innocent smile plastered to her face, she walks back to him.


“How it is that you always notice?” She peers at his face with wide eyes.


“I wouldn’t be the best if a waif of a girl like you can get one over me,” Logan remarks, while knocking back the last of his whiskey.


“Can you train me? I want to be like you.” The girl sits down in front of him, cross-legged, excitement shining in her eyes.


“No.”


Logan’s gruff denial does nothing to dampen her enthusiasm. She chirps on. “Why not?”


“I got better things to do than to babysit a kid.” That was not the end of it; Logan can see the gears turning in her head. Her lips bunch into a pout and tears brimming her eyes, she directs a pleading look at Logan. Kid’s good.


“That crap doesn't work on me.” Logan brushes her off without even looking at her. Tears hug the edge of Ava's eyes, ready to slip at any moment.


He sighs, “Look, there is this school, for gifted kids like you. I’ll send ya there.” Finally sparing a glance at the young girl, he saw a few tears staining her cheeks. Logan reaches over and ruffles her hair. “And if ya behave, I’ll check up on ya between jobs. Maybe teach ya a trick or two.”


“Promise?” Her voice is quiet and pleading.


“Yeah, promise.” Logan relents, wondering why he’s making promises to a scared little girl, again.






For as long as Marie can remember, things have been planned for her, her clothing laid out each morning, for her to dress appropriately as a lady. Her every meal planned out, weeks in advance, to ensure a proper nutrition. Her friends, vetted, researched long before she ever met them, all done in the name of protecting her. She would never begrudge her mother for it, she saved Marie from a life on the streets after all, but sometimes she really wishes her mother would trust her to make her own choices.


In addition, her well-regulated life is a presence in her head. One she’s felt since she was a young child, a presence very much like her yet so much different. The presence is comforting, more often than not; it is difficult for her to differentiate herself from this presence. Along with the presence comes dreams and memories; painful, terrifying things done to her, exotic, foreign locale she’s never been to, futile, desperate battles she’s never fought...but most of all, a glimpse of wild dark hair, intense hazel eyes, warm, tender touches from a love she has never met.


“Lady Marie?” A familiar voice pulls her from her thoughts. “Your clothes are laid out for you in your dressing room and your mother is waiting for you.”


“Thank you, Greg.” She shakes the sleep from her body and stumbles into the bathroom for her morning ritual. She leaves her bedroom a short while later dressed in her Sunday best. She fingers the silk lace woven into her hair, and runs a hand down from the form-fitting, lace, ruffled white blouse, that's wore over her favorite floral patterned, light green summer dress.


“Marie? Are you ready?” Irene's voice calls out from downstairs. She fastens the pearl necklace around her neck and puts on her emerald earrings. “Yes, Momma, I’ll be right down.”


“You look wonderful today.” Irene draws her into a hug soon as she arrives downstairs. Marie smiles, “Momma! You can’t really see me.”


“I don’t have to, I know you're beautiful.” Irene pulls back and runs her hand up and down Marie’s arm.


Taking Irene’s hand, Marie’s guides her out of her home and into their waiting Limo. It was shiny, roomy, and very conspicuous, flanked by security guards. Marie sighs to herself, there are benefits and drawbacks being the adopted daughter of a prominent and powerful US Senator, lately, she's feeling the drawbacks far more than the benefits. She opens the car door and helps Irene inside. Marie takes her seat next to Irene as the staff files in after them.


Emma, her mother’s newest assistant, enters last; dressed immaculately, her silky blond hair styled in a bob, and somehow managing to effortlessly look both professional and sexy at the same time, in her tailor Versace suit. She hands Irene a large stack of paper, before smiling at Marie. Marie and Emma had immediately formed a sort of rapport, and since then Marie has thought of Emma like a big sister she never had.


“Can we get breakfast on the way, Momma?” Marie inquires as she looks out the window.


“Sorry, we have brunch with the Governor after church,” Irene replies, a hand gliding over the documents in her lap, her voice slightly distracted.


Despite Marie’s annoyance at having to attend another of the governor's brunch, she holds her tongue. Her mother is in one her daily telepathic conference with renowned Professor Xavier, it is the primary reason someone as young as Emma is employed on her mother’s staff.


“Oh I forgot to tell you, I have to leave for an important meeting tonight, I’ll be gone for a two days. Jake will take you to school and your piano lessons.” Irene reaches over to squeeze Marie’s hand, “Don’t pout dear.”


“Yes, Momma.” Marie couldn’t help but pout, it’s going to be lonely by herself. Irene's hand rises to gently stroke Marie’s cheek. “I’m sorry, Marie, is a very important meeting.”


“I know, Momma.” Marie grabs Irene’s hand and pulls it down to her lap so she can rest her head on Irene’s shoulder.


“I know your birthday is the day after tomorrow. I promise I’ll make it back before midnight, so we can celebrate it together.” Irene leans over and kisses Marie on the temple. “And I’ll make it up to you by throwing you the best birthday party ever.”


“Momma!” Marie hugs Irene tightly, forget the party, being with her mother on her birthday is more than enough.
Chapter End Notes:
Up next they meet again for the first time.
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