I'm reposting this part for Kelsey. All feedback goes
to her.
Alyx

Title: Crying In the Dark
Author: Kelsey H20Babie6@...
Rating: PG
Characters: Scott, Kitty,
Summary: Two people find themselves.
Notes: Thank you Alyx! Your beta was wonderful! This
is my first angsty fic, be kind! Feedback, feedback,
feedback! I have the next part ready and I'll
send it once I get five feedbacks (because I like
feedback and have no shame
:)!)

Part 1:

She knew it was a bad idea.
He knew they'd only end up hurting the people they
loved.
They both knew they'd do it anyway. They did.
It amazed her, how good it could be.
He'd never had anything like it.
They both knew they couldn't let go of what ever it
was they had found.

She knew it was breaking Bobby's heart.
He knew Jean was growing lonely and bitter.
They both knew that hearts would be broken before it
ended, but they couldn't stop.
She cried, he cried.
He left, she yelled.
They both remembered.


Kitty graduated from NYU a year ago and returned to
Westchester. She, Bobby, Rogue, Jubilee and John
joined the team that summer. It was a summer of
parties, joy and light. Work at the Academy started in
the Fall.

Kitty was assigned most of Jean's teaching schedule so
that Jean could devote more of her time to research.
The days were hard and long, and the light dimmed to
that heavy gold of late autumn afternoons. Missions
started too. Missions that began with adrenaline and
energy, but ended with blood, tears and utter
exhaustion. The light dimmed to the color of midnight.


It was always midnight in Scott's head. Brought on
from years of leading before he was truly ready to
lead. Brought on by the things he did but hated, and
longed to do but couldn't. Midnight came from seeing
too much and not being able to do enough. From
thinking certain thing and saying the opposite. And
despite living in close quarters with two powerful
telepaths, they did not seem to notice the dimming of
his light.

Kitty missed light. The longing for light was what was
destroying her, not the simply the presence of
darkness. Bobby didn't notice, sensitive lover though
he was. He just assumed that quiet equaled mature and
Kitty was a grown up.

After the disastrous mission no one could meet his
eyes. Which was just as well because Scott couldn't
look them in the eyes either. He needed to escape.
The blackness started to suffocate her after the
mission, to cover her with its cool impersonal
dryness. She ran to the courtyard, cool, and dark, and
barren. She stopped when she saw him.

Scott stood in the center of the courtyard, trying to
absorb the starlight.

Kitty pressed close to a wall without phasing through
and watched. A weak lamplight flickered above her. Not
the kind of light she had been looking for.

Scott sighed, turned. Saw Kitty.

She stood there, crying. Tears coursed gracelessly
down her face.

Scott beckoned to her, gathered her in his arms when
she reached him. He couldn't just leave her alone,
crying in the dark.

Kitty allowed herself to be comforted and wished she
knew why she was crying.

Scott stroked her hair and wished he could cry, saying
nothing.

Kitty didn't say anything either. The silence between
them was the most comforting thing of all.

End Part 1

__________________________________________________
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You don't really believe that Tom Hanks and that
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Vote for Best On-Screen Team!

Julia Robert's cleavage got nuthin' on a shirtless
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Vote for X-Men, the Movie (okay, I admit X-Men has
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Vote early & vote often!

Alyx


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Disclaimers, etc. in first part.


April 14th, 1912
5: 21pm


Without time to think and figure out what to do, Logan had to rely on
instinct. When the door opened slowly, he moved himself so he would
be hidden by it.

"Miss Marie?" asked a soft voice. A head of black hair kept tied up
by a maid's hat peeked into the room.

"What is it, Jubilee?" Marie asked the Asian calmly, trying to keep
her servant's attention focused on her and not on the man hiding
behind the door.

"Forgive me, Miss, I thought you'd be asleep. We must hurry to get
you ready for dinner, Miss. It is almost five thirty."

The maid stepped into the room and closed the door behind her. It was
then she noticed the strange and vicious looking man hiding behind
the door. Her brown eyes widened and she stepped back in fear,
letting out a startled gasp.

Before she could scream and alert others, Logan moved quickly and
silence her with a hand on her mouth, and pushed her back into a
chair that was behind her.

"Jubilee, Jubes, listen to me," Marie tried to calm the frightened
and practically hyperventilating young woman. "It's alright, he's a
friend. He won't hurt us. I know he looks like he would, but he
won't, I promise. And he will too if it makes you trust him any more."

When a deadly glare comes natural to you, it's extremely hard to
erase it for kinder features. But try he did, just for the sake of
not being found out by Marie's family.

"Will you trust him?" she asked, silently pleading with her eyes for
the young woman to say yes.

Jubilee nodded her head, causing the hand on her mouth to move with
it. Slowly, deliberately, Logan removed the hand, yet was careful in
case she decided to take back her agreement.

Not a sound came out as she steadied her breathing. "Oh... Miss
Marie... This man should not be in here, what would your parents or
fiancé think?"

"They will think nothing, because they will never know. And if they
find out, I'll know it was you that told them. I can assure you, we
weren't doing anything that would cause my father to disown me or for
Graydon to call off the wedding. We were just talking." Which was
true. What she didn't add was how much she liked to watch him too.

"But... But then what do we do? Mr. Darkholme is waiting for his wife
to be ready out there. We cannot sneak him out, nor can you get ready
with him in here."

As if she had anticipated this and planned things ahead, Marie moved
towards her closet. She pulled out what she would need, then shoved
Logan inside. The damn thing was big enough to fit two people in it
comfortably, even with all of Marie's clothes. "No peeking," she
declared as she shut the doors in his face.

"Quickly, Jubilee," he could hear Marie saying.

Hardly either of them spoke as he listened to the harsh and careless
rustling of her clothes. The only light was the small crack in
between the two doors. It was very small, but large enough for him to
peek out of without them noticing. He was a man after all, how could
he pass up an opportunity such as this to see a rich woman dressed in
her underwear?

Chances had it be that Marie always had her back facing him, and that
damn maid was always in his way of viewing the mirror they were
standing in front of. Logan sighed in disappointment, no good show
tonight.

Something surprised him, though. It was how perky Jubilee seemed to
be, and the way she would at times just bounce across the room as if
she had too much coffee. With her being a personal servant, Logan
didn't doubt she was also a mutant. That would explain why she wore
gloves, even to do Marie's hair, which had to make it a lot harder to
do.

"Logan, you stay hidden until we're gone. Then you can go," she
whispered to him once finished.

"Wait," he stopped her with the word. "Meet me at the Castle, Your
Highness."

She looked puzzled for a moment before a large smile crossed her
features. He could tell she had opted for a dark green that perfectly
suited her this time, bringing out more color in her eyes. But she
had a type of beauty that you could put her in a barrel and she'd
still be breathtaking. Especially if that was all she was wearing.

No... he had to keep his mind out of the gutter, keep it off of her
thin frame. Off of the way her cheeks and chest flushed whenever he
called her 'darlin'. Off of the way she would sometimes drawl out his
name. Even more so off of the way his mind imagined she'd scream it
when she came.

It looked like another cold bath for him that night.

She was taken at the moment, and there was something possibly having
to do her skin. In time, the first would no longer matter, and
whatever the problem was with the latter, he could find a way around
it. He might not be the smartest thing going, but he sure was damn
creative when he wanted to be.

It must had been a good ten minutes before he realized she and her
mutant maid had gone. Not that it was a big deal, it was obvious
where they would be. And because of that, Marie wouldn't be in danger
from her 'father'.

So Logan took his time in getting out of the closet and to the
Forward Castle. Even snooped around in her room for a bit and stole
one of her scarves she had worn at some point. It still smelled
heavily of her, and the primal part of him growled in current
satisfaction.

Off he went to follow her there, stuffing the scarf in one of his
pockets. His mind remained in a daze of fantasies until a slightly
familiar scent caught his attention. In fact, two familiar scents.

But they weren't strong enough to have been created by the people
themselves... no... The scents he detected came off of someone who
had recently been near them.

A quick scan around the beautiful Grand Staircase revealed the most
likely culprit. One of Erik's people. He was chatting with some rich
folk that Logan should have known, but the names escaped him. He was
easy to spot with his dead white hair and young features. With a
smile that said 'hello' as much as 'You move, you die', he walked up
behind the young man.

Pietro didn't acknowledge his presence until something hard was
placed against his spine. It was too small to be a gun, yet not sharp
enough to be a knife. Nevertheless, it was a weapon of some
sort. "May you excuse us?" a gruff voice asked.

Politely, the young couple agreed and continued on their rounds of
greetings, leaving Pietro to be escorted by Logan to an unnoticeable
spot. From what he had been told, Pietro now knew what was pressed
against his spine, and took a single guess as to why he was being
targeted.

"Where are they?"

Yep. And he really was as straightforward as he'd heard. "Who?"

The bone against his back pressed in deeper, not enough to cause pain
yet, but as a reminder. "Don't play 'beat around the bush' games with
me, dickhead. Where are they?"

Okay, so playing that game wasn't the smartest thing to do against a
guy with killer bone claws, a bad attitude, and heightened senses.
But Pietro was fast, and Logan either chose to ignore that fact, or
he didn't know. "I don't know what you're talking about."

The man behind him growled menacingly in his ear. "That's right, bub.
Just gimme any excuse to drag you off and slash you in two."

Pietro laughed as he used his powers to get out of the Wolverine's
grip and behind him. "That's only if you can catch me, which doesn't
look too promising, now, does it?"

Logan whirled around, his face contorted into a snarl. Now facing the
public, he couldn't have his claws out, so he put the one back in
before he turned. Truth was, Pietro had the upper hand, and they both
knew it. What good were claws when you couldn't catch your
foe? "You'd better learn to watch your back. Next time, I might not
care about witnesses."

"Ooooo," the boy feigned the act of fear. "I'm so afraid, I'm gonna
go crawlin' home to mommy. Or better yet, to two available girls."

The beast within him growled, forcing it out of his throat to show
his displeasure. Amy could take care of herself just as good as he
could, but Jennifer was another story. Since working for Xavier, he
had taken a sort of parental instinct with the younger of the two
best friends. She hated violence, the thought made her sick, so she
couldn't protect herself. Logan took it upon himself to do it for
her, and had to on a few occasions.

Now she had been taken, and Logan was torn between helping the girl
he thought of as a great friend and daughter, or the woman he barely
knew yet was feeling some of the same things for, only deeper. He'd
tracked the ship up and down last night, yet still couldn't find a
trace of either of them. Erik's people knew what they were doing, and
knew it well enough to be able to hide the trail.

Only reason why he wasn't doing it still was that Xavier told him he
would be of no help to Jennifer for the time being. Erik had been too
clever, and only time would tell them where the girls were. Xavier
had also proclaimed that Erik had no intentions of hurting the girls.
Of course, he couldn't vouch for the others in Erik's little band.

"If you will excuse me," Pietro declared, with a large amount of
sarcasm, "I have a few waiters to speak to."

His beast growled again, and was about to stab the boy anyways, screw
the witnesses! A cool hand rested lightly on his arm and his name was
spoken softly in order to calm his feral side.

"Logan... we do not need for you to make a scene."

His hazel eyes turned to meet those of a pair of abnormally bright
blue. Ororo Monroe squeezed his arm gently. There was something about
the exotic woman that held so much calm, so much compassion. She
could easily pull Logan out of a minor feral state just by speaking
to him in a soothing voice. If there was one person he could declare
as his most understanding friend, it was Ororo.

"Have you learned anything?" he asked her, hoping to hear some good
news. Like that they had a location and he could go and kick
someone's ass.

Ororo shook her head sadly, not a single piece of shocking white hair
falling out of place of it's delicate position. "No... Nothing but
that at meal time, Pietro always speaks to the waiters to prepare two
meals for him to take. At least we know they are being fed."

Despite the situation, Logan couldn't help but snicker. "Of course
they're feeding them. Erik knows full well the wraith of a hungry
Amy."

The African Goddess took his arm even though he hadn't offered it and
smiled a him, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "Rather like you in
the morning without your coffee. You nearly killed Hank when he took
the last cup a few weeks ago."

He just shrugged his shoulders. "Hey, it got me the coffee. Whatever
works for me, works. Speaking of, why didn't Hank come along?"

"Work. What else? Some of his experiments he could not transport or
leave behind, so it will be a couple months before he can join us.
Jean is planning on using the vacation to her fullest advantage."

Ahhh, yes. The female doctor. It will never be real in title or on
paper, but Jean had proven time and time again to be just as capable
as any man. Under secret apprenticeship with Doctor Henry 'Hank'
McCoy, she could become their full-time doctor so long as someone
else ordered and signed for the supplies.

"I have someplace I have to be, excuse me, Ororo."

"Of course," she nodded in understanding as Logan headed to where he
would meet Marie.


April 14th, 1912
6: 37pm


The sun was still out as Logan stood at the very peak of the ship on
the Forward Castle deck. The wind was blowing harder than before,
which meant they were either going into it, or the ship had sped up
since the last time he was outside. Most likely the latter.

Logan leaned against the railing, puffing away on a cigar. His jacket
was hanging loosely on him while his shirt was already unbuttoned and
free of their confinement inside his pants. The cold had never
bothered him before, so the chill in the air certainly wouldn't.

He was actually beginning to doubt that she would show when he heard
the light footsteps behind him. Too light to be a man's, and too loud
to be that shapeshifting bitch either. One would go for stealth
footsteps and take advantage of the direction the wind was blowing.

The gruff man cocked his head so he could peer behind him and view
the girl who had come. He was about to make some snide remark about
how long she took, but his voice died in his throat.

She was standing, leaning against the railing and desperately tried
to read from it instead of casting glances that were caught by him.

She really did look beautiful when her white streak was lit up by the
sun and blowing in the wind, even if it made it a different color.
The clouds in the sky ranged from the same color of the sun, to a
deep purple. Where the sky and ocean met was a guess on anyone's
part, it blended so perfectly. A painter couldn't have created a more
beautiful piece of artwork than the sight laying before them from
Mother Nature.

He watched Marie in silent wonderment. Watched her expression soften
as she read, and her face become illuminated beautifully in the red
light when she glanced out to the horizon. Logan had never paid
attention to sunsets before that moment, but he quickly deemed it
something he wanted to experience often, especially with Marie.

The young woman standing before him had never been more relaxed in
her life. The setting was more beautiful than anything she had seen
before. Her book no longer holding her interest, she replaced it in
the folds of her skirt before venturing even closer to him.

The wind nipped at the hair that had broken free, and ravished the
loose folds of her dress. She felt so free standing there with the
wind riding against her in waves like a lover's gentle caress. A
giggle rose from her lips at the childish memories entering her mind,
when she used to sneak outside on the roof of her mansion just to
view the sunset.

"Aren't you going to tell me why you asked me here?"

On the last bit of his cigar, Logan took one final puff before
throwing it to the sea and turning to face her. "Do I really need to?
You came, didn't you?"

Her face suddenly saddened. "Yes... But I only came for one thing..."

Logan didn't like that look on her face. It shouldn't be on her face.
And the tone in her voice didn't help matters any either. "Like what?"

He watched as Marie took a few deep breaths to center herself. "I...
am here to tell you... We can never meet again."

Logan felt as if he had just been slapped in the face. And he had
many a time before, but it had never hurt this bad. "What?"

"I am sorry, Mr. Logan. It would be best if we did not see each other
for the remainder of the voyage." Her words were harsh yet strained,
and hurt her too. She didn't truly want to mean them, someone else
was making her say those things to him. Yet it still hurt no less.

Dangerously close to showing her how wrong she was, he settled for
just stepping closer. "Is that what you want?"

"I--"

"Because if it is, then I'll grant it," he interrupted. But I'm not
going to leave you alone simply because your parents don't approve."
He stared into her eyes, daring her to repeat those words to them.

Eyes brimming with tears, she said in a shaky voice, "It is what I
want."

"Bullshit! It's not, and I can tell!" One more step and he was as
close as he could be without physically touching her. She flinched
back, but it didn't stop him. "Don't throw your life away because of
them. You aren't their slave, you are a grown woman free to make her
own choices in life."

"No, I'm not." Not wanting him to see the tears, she turned to face
the water. "Just go..." she whispered.

"Fine," was all he replied with before turning on his heel and
leaving her to her misery and her broken sunset, same as her heart.


April 14th, 1912
7: 15pm


Logan was fuming and meant to take it out on someone else. But he was
expected at dinner, so after lingering around the staircase a while,
that was where he headed. He let himself grin forcefully at seeing
Xavier had somehow managed to swipe one of the bigger tables that
could seat them and Erik's group. It was hard to read whether the old
man was pleased or distraught over the seating arrangement.

Even so, he wasn't an idiot. Sandwiching Marie in with people all
around her so Logan couldn't get close. Logan was forced to sit in
between the two miserable men at the table, making the total three
with Logan there. Bobby was absentmindedly freezing his water, while
Remy talked about how he and Amy had met. Jean had asked him,
although she already knew.

"We met on de second day 'ere. I was workin' in de café when in came
dis angel. I mean it, dis girl is an angel. F' some reason, she
decided to eat dere 'stead of 'ere f' dinner. Dis angel was de only
person dere, an' I was her waiter. I dunno why, but I started talkin'
t' her. I know it wasn' my place, but I did. An' she talked t' me. It
was so romantic dere wit' de sun setting... I knew dis Cajun had
fallen in true love... I know it wasn' my place, but I kissed her
when she left... She didn' act repulsed or distraught, so I t'ink she
felt it too."

"Awwwwwww," Jean sighed. "That is so sweet..."

"And they let you in here as if you were a passenger?" Erik inquired,
more amused by the story than anything else.

"Dey don' know I not one."

"Yet it is not proper. Even if that tramp wanted you here, she
obviously isn't now. Probably hiding from you, hoping you'll take the
hint," Graydon shot back with a tinge of vehemency. Behavior such as
a worker sitting and dining as if he were a first class passenger, he
would not accept. "Where do I report you?"

"Mr. Creed, is that really necessary?" Xavier asked. "Mr. LeBeau is
not harming anything, and I requested that he join us this night. He
is simply granting that request."

The younger man rose from his seat and stared down at the bald head
of Xavier's with detest. "Than you should know better than to ask a
mere servant to dine with you. Then again, given your company, I
shouldn't have expected anything else. Mr. Logan is nothing more than
a servant, I'm told."

Logan felt his throat tighten without warning. He glanced at Jean and
saw she was attempting to keep the situation from getting any worse
with the growl that had been forming in his throat. No doubt it would
have made things worse.

"Mr. Logan is a valued member of my family. I do not have servants. I
believe in doing things for yourself."

Graydon laughed, a sound which was not at all pleasant and caused
Marie to cringe. "Do you expect me to believe you cook your own food?
Farm your own food? Wash and mend your own clothes?"

"Yes, we do," he replied without any hesitation.

Marie found nothing wrong with that. She would sometimes sneak into
the kitchen and help to cook herself. Cooking was like reading was to
her, very calming and therapeutic. Especially when she got to beat
the hell out of some meat to make it thinner. Very satisfying.
Although nothing would cheer her up after what she had to do.

Not wanting Mr. LeBeau to get into trouble, Marie pleaded with her
fiancé to sit down. which received a glare from Logan. After a
moment's hesitation, Graydon reluctantly sat back down in his chair
to the right of Marie.

"Of course, my dear," he said to her with a fake smile.

The dinner went on as uncomplicated as usual. Or as boring as usual,
your pick. For the most part, everyone but Xavier and Lensherr
remained silent, only speaking when needed.

"Well..." Xavier exclaimed as he pushed himself to a standing
position with his crutch. "Would any of you gentlemen would like to
join myself and Erik in the Smoking Room?"

Graydon and Scott acknowledged, but the others politely declined. A
non-feral grunt was polite considering the mood Logan was in. He was
going to follow the little pipe-squeak as soon as he left.

The rest of the men offered to escort the ladies back to their rooms,
leaving Logan free to track him as he pleased.

Pietro didn't even bother with covering his trail as he got the cart
with the two meals prepared on it. The waiter offered to take, but
the boy refused, declaring he could do it himself.

Once the boy was outside the Reception Area, he picked up the two
trays and abandoned the cart. It was then that Logan realized his
tracking wouldn't work, and how he couldn't find the girls. In the
blink of an eye, Pietro was gone, leaving nothing but an astonishing
gust of wind in his wake.

Moving so fast left very little scent for Logan to track by, hence
why he had been unsuccessful thus far. He was going to have to demand
Xavier worked harder at locating them, his instinct was acting up
again. And Logan's instinct was always right.

"Logan?" he turned at the call of his name to face Jean. Fiery haired
Jean that was once the object of his fantasies. Hey, he had a thing
for red heads. "Would you mind relieving Mr. LeBeau of taking Mrs.
and Ms. Darkholme to their quarters?"

Logan sighed. Not quite out of what she had asked to do, but out of
not being able to find Jenn any sooner. "Sure," he agreed sorely as
the said couple appeared. "Allow me to help escort you ladies?" he
asked with a tinge of bitterness.

"Why, thank you, kind sir," Irene said, allowing her arm to be put
through the crook in his. "My daughter and I were heading towards our
quarters."

With kindness and patience he didn't think possible in him concerning
Marie was there, he helped the woman to the rooms, Marie in tow. The
cane Irene used whacked his leg a few times, but he kept assuring
them that he was alright.

"I can be so clumsy with this thing, forgive me," she said.

"Don't worry. I'm probably walking in a way you aren't used to."
Damn, Scooter would have a good laugh if he could-- Aw, shit. They he
was, right in their path down the corridor. He and his wife stopped
and turned and smiled at him, but he could tell there was a definite
shade of humor in Scott's expression before he turned his attention
back to nuzzling his wife's neck.

He passed them without a word, wanting to get the duty over with
quickly so he could go and beat the shit out of something -- or
better yet -- someone.


~*~ Adréa ~*~

After having been forced to live in such refined quarters for so
long, the five friends living in the small attic room had learned to
co-exist pleasantly, with little to no squabbling. It was true,
however, that having five distinctly varying personalities did tend
to cause mild irritations. For the most part, though, they banded
together to offer each other support during the trials they were
currently facing.

Much had to be given up in the name of survival. Each had nasty
habits that tended to grate on others nerves so much so, that there
was little choice but to refrain from them altogether. The first to
be acknowledged was Gambit's smoking, which did seem the worst of the
lot. Though he could not entirely put away the addiction, he did
promise to lower the daily smokings to times when it seemed
absolutely necessary.

Still, after having to remain silent for most of the day in fear of
being found out by those workers which moved around just below them,
the friends graciously accepted each others words when the clock
struck seven and the laborers below departed to their own, safe
homes. Henry McCoy often amused them with fascinating sciences and
philosophies that provided the rest of them with ideas enough to
entertain themselves when needing to be still. Ororo Monroe, resident
Goddess, retold tales of a life long ago lived, in the majestic
country of Africa, where very little was imprisoned. Likewise, the
thief threw in a few of his own personal recounts of tight situations
that he had, at once, feared he would not have survived. In
comparison, the impersonal war which waged about around them seemed
at such a distance that they sometimes failed to believed it to be
occurring at all!

Marie remained silent for most of the day, keeping to her thoughts
and, instead, listening to the others, and watching their gestures as
they spoke. Despite the small quarters, and the sad situation that
seemed never-ending, the others remained animated throughout their
story telling, even portraying a sense of hope that Marie feared had
long since died within her.

On one such day, Marie awoke to find Bobby noisily bustling about the
apartment room, where the others, as she herself had been but a
moment ago, still remained asleep. He shot her a small smile, before
continuing with his secretive work that he would offer her no part
of, for the time being.

When the others awoke, he finally revealed that which had brought a
smile to his otherwise barren, worn features. "Merry Christmas,
everyone!" The proclamation took everyone aback, for they hadn't
realized, for some time, just how long they had been in the small
room together. They had entered into it the third week in February of
2018, and already it was December of 2019. More than a year had
passed since they had gathered the remains of the family they once
knew and stowed away, leaving the public several letters and hints to
imply that they had successfully fled to another country.

"Goddess, has it been so long?" Ororo's tender eyes looked upon Hank
in curious wonder, trying to find an explanation as to why the time
had moved by so quickly, yet dragged on so slowly at the same time.

"It appears," the furry genius beside her added, while flipping
through the contents of his notebook. "That our Frosty friend is
correct." He leaned slightly closer, so as to offer her a view to his
very organized, and strictly dated journal.

"To think, de five of us have been t'gether dat long. An' wit'out
wantin' t'kill one another. Mus' be some kind of record, non?"

"The X-Men have always done well in situations where the odds are
against them." Bobby finished putting up the last of the meager
decorations that their friend from the outside world had dropped off
earlier that morning, while the others slept. "Anyone for presents?"
Grinning slightly at the sight of bewilderment on the others' faces,
he dropped to sit beside Marie, holding a hand up to silence any
oncoming questions. "They aren't from me." Indeed, they were quick to
find that the gifts were from Arnold Frank.

Bobby knew there was no way they could ever repay the man for all
that he was doing for them. Newspaper articles daily exposed the
consequences of aiding runaway and wanted mutants, and feared a day
when they themselves would be made an example of. Still, the morale
of himself and the others had been slowly deteriorating, being
replaced by the chilling dread that the war between man and mutant
would continue on for an ungodly length.

Marie took the small box with her name scribbled onto the newspaper
wrapping and smiled, turning it over without actually opening it. The
sudden gratefulness for the man who came daily to see to it their
needs were attended to overwhelmed her, and salty tears welled in her
eyes, causing the scratched word "Marie" to blur before her. Many a
night had she gone to bed, wondering if their safe hold would likely
be their grave? Such an act of kindness was greatly appreciated by
the five fugitives, and by Marie especially.

All hesitated to open the gifts, thinking it better, perhaps, to
leave them for another time when their world seemed more in peril.
Tucking the boxes back under the mini tree that had been made out of
old newspaper clippings and wire, the friends moved closer together,
rubbing their arms and trying to ignore the sight of their breath
before them. "Hey, Hankster, help me out here, would you?"

Hank got up on hind legs and made his way over to where Bobby was
currently fumbling with several baskets and trays. He helped the
young boy set them down in the middle of everyone, before taking his
esteemed place beside Ororo once again. Quirking an awkward smile,
Bobby looked at his fellow teammates and current family, before
glancing back at the food. "How about...uh...Hank? Would you mind
saying a blessing or something?" The intellect nodded briefly, before
taking the hands of his neighbors. When the others had done the same,
he bend his head and closed his eyes and thanked God, whom he hoped
was still looking out for them through all of this.

Once the prayer had been finished, the group unceremoniously dove
into the rationed, yet plentiful amount of food that lay before them.
The country, being at war, both with itself and with neighboring
countries, had to ration the food to the best of their abilities,
without starving its inhabitants. To do so, they generally
distributed slips of paper constituting as food rationing. Arnold
Frank had been successful in trading their mutant rationing cards for
normal, acceptable ones, thanks to the help of an underground
organization that slowly, yet determinedly, planned the overthrow of
those against mutants.

Marie ate slowly, knowing it would be best if they saved as much as
possible for days ahead when Mr.Frank might not be able to bring them
food. Instead she settled her gaze among the people she had come to
love as brothers and sisters. Despite the outer hatred for them, and
the need to be isolated from everything they once held dear, her
friends were able to push past that concept and continue life with
some semblance of normalcy. It wasn't a grand Christmas, like those
she vaguely remembered celebrating in the past, but it was the most
touching she would ever live through. Though her native country had
come to despise all that she was, these four friends of hers would
stay by her side, through thick and thin. That was truly something
worth celebrating.

Acceptance Series 4/? rating R (language)
(Disclaimer in part 1)


I just wanted to thank everyone who has sent me feedback on this
series.  Thanks guys.  There's a lot more to come.  I'm just a little
slow with the typing. Hope you all enjoy this next part.  Part 5 will
be up soon...hopefully. ;)


Awakening



Rogue squeezed Logan's hand just enough to stop the growl and to
cause the man to look over hopefully at the young woman laying on the
table.

"Marie?"  Logan stared at her. "Jeannie, she squeezed my hand.  I
think she's comin' around."

"Logan,  are you sure?  Her vitals haven't changed in over an hour.
It was probably a muscle spasm. I'm sorry." Jean said as she backed
away from the monitors monitoring Rogue.

"No, Jean,  look. She just closed her eyes."

"That's not possible.  Her vitals.  Nothing's changed."  Jean looked
over at Hank then to the Professor and Storm, hope mixed with
uncertainty as she walked over to examine Rogue.

"See." Logan said just as Jean reached out to open Rogue's now closed
eyelid.  Before she could even open the lid,  Rogue sprang forward
into a sitting position.  She grabbed Jean by the throat in one swift
movement and held her still.  She looked at Jean,  cocking her head
to the side as if accessing stored memories,  with a look of
distorted interest on her face.  Enlightenment happened quickly, much
to Jean's relief and with a quick flip of her wrist, Jean sailed
through the air across the room.  Logan watched astonished by what
had just happened.  He was in such a state of shock that even though
he knew that she was awake he had still yet to release her hand.  The
room was silent.  Everyone watched with awe as she turned her
intensely dark eyes upon Logan.  In a deep voice that wasn't meant to
be Marie's,  she spoke to Logan.  The first words that she had spoken
in two months.

"'Bout time ya showed up, Bub.  Our girl's in serious shit here.
Where ya been?"

Logan stared at Rogue totally confused. This was Marie's body.  This
was her voice, but yet it wasn't.  Her normal soft melodic southern
drawl was gone, replaced by a low gruff hardened voice. But
nonetheless it was still his Marie,  so he thought.

"Marie?" He asked, the question evident to everyone.  He glanced over
to the Professor who had wheeled himself to the other side of her
where Jean had been.  The look of astonishment clear on his passive
face.  He shook his head, no and mouthed "you" to Logan.

"What?" Logan looked quickly back to Rogue who now had an eyebrow
raised and a Loganess smirk on her lips.

"Jesus H. Fuckin' Christ! I'm talkin' to me? Ya mean the me in her
head?  I gutta sit down."  He groped for the chair that he had
vacated during the whole Scott altercation moments ago and sat down
with a thump.

"Well,  light dawns on marble...wait scratch that word,  metal head."
Rogue barked out what Logan presumed to be a laugh, his laugh.  "Bout
time ya showed.  I didn't know how much longer I could hold off
Magnet-boy and Superwoman here."

"Ahh...where's Marie?"  Logan asked not knowing really how to handle
this surreal situation.  It kind of freaked him out actually, but he
figured that he'd process everything later once Marie was Marie again.

"She's still here. She's asleep. She don't want to deal with all this
shit just yet. That's fine; it's a lot of shit to deal with, just
there's a little problem,  I'm not sure how much longer I can hold
off the others, or what will happen when they finally push me out of
the way."

"Others?  They're strong enough to do that?"

"Well,  maybe not Magnet head,  though I've got ta say,  he certainly
is givin' it his all,  but this Carol, chick, the one who supposedly
is...err, was Marie's friend,  ya know the one that did this to her;
she's getting stronger everyday and only Marie can put this one in
her place.  Marie has to wake up and take back control...soon."

"How do we wake her?" The Professor interjected.

"I don't know, Chuck.  Doncha think that if I did,  I would have
already done it.  Or if I couldn't doncha think that I'd have already
told ya? I was hopin' you guys had a suggestion." Rogue looked around
the room her eyes stopped on Hank who was helping Jean off the floor.

"Ohh, Jeannie,  I'm sorry.  Didn't realize it was you at first.
Sorry about, ya know, the whole neck business and the flying 'cross
the room shit."

"It's okay, Rogue-- ahh,  I mean, Logan." She rasped out while
rubbing her throat.

"I will research the computer to try and find a solution.  Jean,
Storm, Professor,  if you could look through some books in the
library we may be able to locate a solution quicker.  Logan,  please
keep her talking for as long as you can and if she loses
consciousness again notify us immediately.  Jean, you may want to
notify Scott of Rogue's current situation.  I'm sure he'll be just as
concerned for her well-being as we are."

Logan nodded,  too dumbfounded at the moment to respond. He watched
the others walk out of the room then turned his gaze back to the
young woman who held his heart.  He had no idea what to talk to her
about.  She saved him from starting the conversation.

"So, Bub,  whatcha been up to these last three years?  Find anything
about what happened to us?"

"Ahhh..."


TBC...
There's more,  no worries.  Don't hate me,  I'll have the next part
up in a couple of days, k? :)

Author: Kelsey
Ratings: G, PG-I'm really bad about rating stuff. there isn't anything
offensive I don't think!
Characters: Scott, Bobby, others as needed.
Disclaimer: Oh yeah, these aren't mine. But I'll happily take Scott and Bobby
off anyones hands!
Notes: Thanks to Katta for betaing! Oh, this is pure fluff. I finished this
before I got brave enough to try "Crying." And thank you to whoever's fic I
was reading when my plot bunny attacked!

Part 1:
        He sat on the bench, watching her and Remy. He grudgingly admitted
that they were perfect together. It was a pity that he and Rogue couldn’t be
perfect together instead. Remy was everything Bobby knew he wasn’t. Outgoing,
outlandish, self-confident, exciting, interesting, the list of traits Rogue
had found sadly lacking in Bobby. That stupid list broke Bobby’s heart even
more than Rogue and Remy’s constant…togetherness did.  Remy didn’t fear
Rogue, Rogue didn’t fear for Remy. Bobby felt weak and shallow in comparison.
Compared to Remy he felt plain and ordinary. In a mansion full of mutants,
Bobby felt painfully normal.

        Scott sat on a bench opposite theyard from Bobby. He wasn’t watching
Rogue and Remy, but Jean and Logan. Funny, how she’d never expressed an
interest in the outdoors before. Oh, sure they went onpicnics when the
weather was nice, but when athletics were involved Jean always had something
better to do in the lab. Suddenly, now that she was with Logan, a tickle fest
in the grass was not only okay, but also welcomed. Scott suspected bitterly
that Logan didn’t get lectures on public displays of affection. Logan
wouldn’t respond well to that. No. Logan was rough, tough, gruff, a
strong,violent rule breaker. And Scott was “good ol’ Scott�. Clean up the
mess, fix what was broken, take care of what had been destroyed. And Scott
liked that, annoyingly enough. But when compared with Logan, Scott looked
puny. He was extremely tired of being the bigger man and looking smaller.
Tired of beinggallant and looking the fool. Tired of having super powers and
feeling like a normal guy.
        Bobby first noticed Jean and Logan when Rogue tripped over them. Then
he noticed Scott who had obviously been watching Logan and Jean. Scott looked
like he had just been jolted from deep thought, and from the look on his face
they hadn’t been happy thoughts. When Bobby thought about it, he and Scott
were in very similar positions. They both had to watch the women they loved
be with guys who were cooler, more exciting, and more seemingly dangerous
then themselves. Didn’t it used to be cool to be the boy-next door?
        “Hey Mr. Summers- Scott,� Bobby greeted his teacher and friend as he
sat next to him.
             “Hi Bobby. What’s up?�
             “Nothin’ much. Just watching the girl I’m in love with fall in
love with a cooler, more exciting guy. And feeling sorry for myself,� Bobby
said conversationally.“You?�
             “ ‘Bout the same. I’m feeling like a pretty normal guy.�
             “Yeah,� Bobby agreed. “And y’know what? Being a normal guy
sucks.�



[Non-text portions of this message have been removed]

Author: Kelsey
Rating: G/PG
Archiving: Forgot to mention in Pt. 1. If anyone actually wants this, please
ask. I'll probably say yes.
Disclaimers/Notes: See Part 1!

Part 2:
        After that particularly warm, sunshiny and utterly depressing day in
the yard, Bobby and Scott shared a new kind of bond. It came into play a
hundred times a day. When Remy and Rogue were making out at breakfast, when
Jean and Logan decided to go to bed a little earlier than usual, when teams
were picked in an all-school hide-and-seek.Scott and Bobby could convince
themselves, and each other, that they weren’t alone. They would see an
awkward situation, walk past the other man and whisper,“Normal Guy,� Two
words that soothed, reminded him he wasn’t alone. It was good having someone
to face the day with. Someone to count on, and someone to be there for.
Friendship, either would admit, almost made up for love. Almost.
        Being a “Normal Guy� helped soothe the little problems that made up a
day, but inevitably bigger issues came along and almost a month after Scott
and Bobby became “Normal Guys,� Jean and Logan gathered the school together
for an announcement.
  “We wanted you all to know, that we’re, um…� Jean paused and looked
guiltily across the room at Scott. Bobby got up at that moment and walked to
where his ally was leaning against a wall. Bobby got there just in time.
“Logan and I are having a baby.�
Scott could swear he felt the earth move. Bobby felt the aftershocks.
Jean and Logan. Jean and Logan. Scott thought. It was almost too much to
bear. And then Bobby elbowed him. Quite painfully actually. Scott understood
he had an ally, no power in this situation, but an ally who was there for
him. He also knew that everyone was watching, waiting. Sometimes Scott really
hated being a role model. When all he wanted in the world was to slug the man
who had touched the woman he loved, he knew he couldn’t, worse, knew he
wouldn’t. So he did what was appropriate, predictable, chivalrous, so very
Scott.
        He walked across the room, congratulated Jean, hugged her. Shook
Logan’s hand.
             Look kids, He thought, this is how to be a grown-up.  He knew no
one respected or was terribly impressed by his actions. No one ever really
saw how close Mr. Summers, Cyclops, got to doing something rash, Logan-ish.
It simply wasn’t done. Only one person in the world could understand, truly
empathize, with what Scott was feeling, and that person was a sixteen
year-old kid.
             That sixteen year-old kid was very glad he was unable to feel
Scott’s emotions directly. He was already drowning in empathy. He tried to
imagine himself in Scott’s place. Rogue and Remy telling him…in front of
everyone…no. They wouldn’t do that. But Jean and Logan had. Bobby suddenly
hated Jean. Logan had always been upfront in his dislike of Scott. But Jean,
Jean claimed she loved Scott. How could anyone who had ever cared do
something like this? Hurt someone so badly. Bobby half-wondered if Scott
would adjust his visor, send the school tumbling down on them. That’s
something Logan would do, no questions asked. But Scott couldn’t, and Bobby
hated the injustice of it all.
             Scott watched emotions cross Bobby’s face. This is what having an
ally was. Someone who felt more strongly about your situation than you did.
How on earth did people survive without allies, friends?



[Non-text portions of this message have been removed]

Author: Kelsey
Rating: G/PG
Characters: Scott, Bobby, others as needed
Archiving/Disclaimer/Notes: See Part 1 (Pt. 2 for archiving)



Part 3:
              The “Normal Guys� were great, wonderful. Having an ally was one
of the best things on earth, but it did get lonely. It came to pass that
Scott and Bobby realized that dispite wishful thinking their romantic
problems weren’t going to be solved by hanging out alone. And they slowly
realized they’d become a clique. Isolated. Insulated. And then Bobby
remembered his best friend Kitty again. The girl he’d been half in love with
when Rogue showed up at the Acadamy.
             He walkedinto her room one morning, sprawled across her bed like
always.
             “Hey Kit.How’s it going?� Kitty looked up from her book, not
hiding her surprise.
             “Same as always,� she said looking down at where he was lying on
his side.
“I don’t get it,� he sighed.“What’s wrong with me?�
             “Bobby? Try explaining. From the beginning, not the middle
please.�
             “What is itabout Remy, and Logan? What is it that girls want and
I don’t have?� Bobby wondered, rolling onto his stomach and looking out the
window so he didn’t haveto meet Kitty’s eyes. Kitty laughed, a little
bitterly.
             “What you do have is terrible taste in women,� Bobby turned to
look at her questioningly.“Oh, I’m not saying I don’t like Rogue. I’m
just
saying you and her don’t mesh.You’re far too normal for her.�
             “Thanks Kitty, I hadn’t noticed,� Bobby grumbled
sarcastically,
staring out the window again, at Remy and Rogue.
             “No. You’re not…It’s just…Grr. Okay Bobby listen, Rogue
digs
wild guys. Dangerous guys-�
             “I’m not dangerous?� Bobby grumbled to the window.
             “Oh sure you could turn anyone into a Popsicle, but you just
don’t give off that vibe. Anyway, Rogue digs danger, Jubilee digs, in her
heart anyway, she digs guys that need her. Innocents. People who confide in
her. I myself,� Kitty patted his back gently, “am partial to normal guys.�
Bobby turned then, to face her. Sat up, hugged her.
             “Kit- I could really use…� he buried his head in her shoulder
embarrassed by the tears streaming down his cheeks, shocked at how lonely he
really was.
             “I know Bobby,� she smoothed his hair with one hand, holding him
tight with the other. “We both really need a good friend.� Bobby sighed. Let
go of his friend. Got a little more comfortable on Kitty’s bed.
             “Mind if I read over your shoulder?�
             “Do I ever?�
             When Jubilee and Rogue walked into their room several hours later
Rogue didn’t hideher jealousy, or surprise, at finding Bobby and Kitty asleep
on Kitty’s bed with a single book. Jubilee simply smiled.
             “And all is right with the world, Kitty always did go for normal
guys.�


[Non-text portions of this message have been removed]

Author: Kelsey
Rating: G/PG
Characters: Scott, Bobby, others as needed
Archiving/Disclaimer/Notes: See Part 1 (Pt 2 for archives)



Part 4:
             Scott was glad for Bobby. He’d needed to get out. Needed a
friend. And if the expression on Kitty’s face was an indicator, Bobby’s joy
at finding their friendship again wasn’t entirely one-sided. Good for them.
             Bobby, Scott decided, was a lucky kid. He had options here.
People he could fall in and out of love with. Scott on the other hand… There
were a grand total of five adults at the X-Academy, if Scott counted himself.
Three, still counting Scott, were men and Scott wasn’t going to swing that
way anytime soon. Of the other two, Scott had been engaged to one, and
considered the other a bestfriend/sister. Yes, Scott’s options here were
decidedly limited and Scott was decidedly determined not to be celibate
forever. He’d seen what celibacy had done for the Professor and, not that he
didn’t admire the guy, but, pass! These decisions begged the question, what
now?
             Scott couldn’t leave the school. It would mean abandoning the
kids, the Professor, the team. But Scott couldn’t stay like this, live like
this. The Academy walls felt like they were closing in around him. He was
starting to see why Logan ran, when there was nothing but loneliness for him
here. The mansion was stifling when you had no one. How on earth had Ororo
stood it as long as she had? Scott paced the hall. The more he thought the
more trapped he felt.
          “Aaah!� He screamed and it felt good. Startled the hell out of Jean
too.
          “Scott? You okay?� she asked. The Scott she knew didn’t randomly
scream in hallways.
          “Fine Jean,� Scott brushed her off. He muttered under his breath,
“suffocating to death, but fine.�  At which point Scott decided to see
theProfessor.
          “Scott. You know what you have to do,� The Professor told him.
          “But I can’t just…can I?�
          “Scott, it is your prerogative. If you want to live and socialize
near here you may continue your work and team duties, or choose some part
there of. Or you may leave entirely. The question here, Scott, is, what do
you want?� The Professor asked gently.
          “I want to leave. Go to the city. Live there, work there. Come home
on weekends and holidays. When you need me. When the team needs me. The
Blackbird can be in the city in under five minutes,� Scott assured him.
          “Scott, you don’t owe us anything. You don’t have to still be
Cyclops. Be just Scott if you so desire,� the Professor instructed him.
          “But I don’t know- I’ve forgotten how to be just Scott. I’m
afraid
to let go of Cyclops,� Scott confessed. “I’m afraid of being outgrown,
being
forgotten.� The Professor shook his bald head and smiled softly,
          “Son, you could never be forgotten. You aren’t the average man you
seem to think you are.�



[Non-text portions of this message have been removed]

Author: Kelsey
Rating: G/PG
Characters: Scott, Bobby, others as needed
Archiving/Disclaimer/Notes: See Part 1 (Pt. 2 for Archiving)

Part 5:
             It was a strange day at the X-Mansion. Historic even. No X-Men
had ever left the team, the school before. There was a party. It seemed
almost rude. Like a “Yay! No more mechanics classes� party. But Scott
appreciated that people cared. So he ate store bought cake, and drank diluted
punch, and talked with well wishers.
             “Scott?� Jean asked as he started towards the car which would
take him to his new life in New York City.
             “Hey Jean,� he turned to face her.
             “I’m sorry.�
             “Don’t be. This isn’t about you. Okay, that sounded wrong,�
Scott chuckled. “Jean, you aren’t forcing me to leave my home. I’m making
a
choice, making a change.�
             “I’m glad. I wish…things would have been different,� Jean
sighed. She brightened suddenly. “Logan doesn’t know this yet but…� Jean
leaned to whisper in his ear  “…the baby’s a boy. We’re gonna name
himScott. After you.�
             “Thanks Jean. That’s…I don’t know what to say that won’t
sound
trite,� Scott hugged her. “You know Logan’ll hate it right?�
             “The decision is final. He has six months to learn to deal with
it!� The two laughed together, able to be friends without being lovers.
             “Scott?�Bobby approached Jean and Scott. “Jean, can I borrow
Scott?� Jean smiled at Scott.
             “He’s all yours.�
             “We haven’t really talked in awhile have we Bobby?� Scott
asked.
             “Nope. You ‘k?�
             “I’m good. This is right, this is what I need to be doing,�
Scott told Bobby nodding.
          “Okay. Don’t be a stranger man. Call, write!�
          “You too. Take the Blackbird on unauthorized trips to visit.  Tell
‘em I’m still in charge,� Scott grinned determinedly.
          “Always. You’re the man,� Bobby grinned at his friend, fellow
“Normal Guy�.
          “Don’t let Logan take over my team.�
          “Nah. The Prof wants Ororo.�
          “Good choice. I’ll be around when you join the team.�
          “Normal Guys forever, huh?�
          “Normal Guys forever.�
          “ ‘Bye Scott.�
          “ ‘Bye Bobby,� The two men hugged and Bobby rejoined Kitty on
steps. Scott waved broadly before getting in the car and driving away.
It was hard to imagine life at theMansion without Scott Summers. Most of the
students didn’t understand why heneeded to leave. Jean and Logan had been
together for almost two months. He’dadjusted, so why now?
             Bobby triedto explain it to a few of them. The lack of options,
being trapped. Scott wasjust a normal guy who wanted a life. Maybe he’d find
one he could bring homeand nurture in the Mansion. Or maybe Scott Summers,
formerly Cyclops, wasleaving the nest for good. He just needed time to find
out where he stood, justlike everyone else. Scott Summers finally was a
normal guy.





[Non-text portions of this message have been removed]

Author: Kelsey
Rating: PG/PG-13
Characters: Scott, Kitty, others as needed
Archiving: Please ask
Disclaimers: I wish they were mine, but they aren't!
Notes: Okay I'm sure there's been confusion on this. Crying is *my* fic. Alyx
is my awesome beta who reposted 'cause I guess my apostrophes showed up as a
strange symbol. Sorry! Feedback goes to *me*! I'd like some feedback on past
chapters before I post part three. Thanks!

Part2:
             She knew it was a bad idea.
             He knew they’d only end up hurting the people they loved.
             They both knew they’d do it anyway.They did.
             It amazed her, how good it could be.
             He’d never had anything like it.
             They both knew they couldn’t let go of what ever it was they had
found.
             She knew it was breaking Bobby’s heart.
             He knew Jean was growing lonely and bitter.
             They both knew that hearts would be broken before it ended, but
they couldn’t stop.
             She cried, he cried.
             He left, she yelled.
             They both remembered.

          The night after they bonded Scott woke with a smile on his face. He
felt theempty space on the bed next to him. Jean had already left for her
morning run.That was alright. Scott rose and got ready for his shower,
humming.
****
          Kitty swore that it was the best breakfast of her life, and Logan
was no great chef. She couldn’t put her finger on it, couldn’t explain
exactly why everything was wonderful this morning. At least not until she saw
Scott.
****
          Scott was perky. Not just the usual alert and friendly, but
downright *perky*.  Of all the nights to come out of perky, last night was
not one of them. He didn’t know  why he was perky either, until he saw Kitty.
  ****
           Their eyes met, and it all made sense. Kitty felt better,like
someone was picking up the pieces and slowly putting them together again.She
knew they had to talk next time.
  ****
           There would definitely be a next time. There had to be a next time,
Scott knew it as surely  as he knew his own name. He and Kitty weren’t done,
had barely  started, doing whatever it was that was making  him notice the
sunshine.
  ****
           Kitty didn’t know  how to make it happen again. If she *could* make
it happen again. Last night in the courtyard, it had been so effortless, so
unintentional…She didn’t understand it and wondered if she ever would.
****
           Scott took it on faith, the way he took everything he knew on
faith. He needed it. It would happen - and it did. In the library,two days
later, just as he was beginning to doubt.
****
            Kitty found it much less distracting to grade papersin the
library, especially with a boyfriend as…physical as Bobby. She was suffering
through yet another ‘Why IWant to Be An X-Man’ essay. Oh if those kids only
knew…For some reason they thought mentioning it at every turn would endear
them. Kitty laughed and shook her head.

           “Something funny?� Scott asked from behind a row of bookshelves.
He’d been checking to make sure there were enoughTrigonometry books. There
were.

           “You’re incredibly lucky not to be anEnglish teacher,� Kitty
told
him lightly forgetting that this was the person she had been trying to run
into alone for two days. People were always in crowds at the mansion, and it
wasn’t easy to find someone for a one on one conversation.

           “Oh yeah? I lived with one for years.  A 'Why I Wantto Be An
X-Man’ essay? You shouldn’t laugh. I read yours.� Scott chuckled
remembering
how he couldn’t meet Kitty’s eyes for a week, afraid he’d burst out
laughing
recalling one of her ridiculous clichés. How  naïve and innocent they all
once were. Himself included. He stepped out from behind the books and the
lightness and joking were gone. He sat across the table from her. “Kitty…�
            “Scott…thank you,� she whispered and was surprised because it
wasn’t what she’d been planning to say, but it was exactly what she’d
meant.
           "Thank *you*," Scott told her. "I feel like I've been..."
           “Away.� She finished because she knew. “But now  y ou’re back
and
you just want to get back in touch with the world. But…�
           “You’re afraid.� It was a statement. Scott knew too. “You’re
afraid that if you touch someone, talk to someone, they’ll drag you back
down.�
           “But it’s okay to touch me,� Kitty told Scott,“because I
can’t
hurt you.�
           “Not anymore than I can hurt you.� Scott reachedout and placed a
hand on her arm, and the library felt deliciously  warm.


[Non-text portions of this message have been removed]

Hi ppl,
I'm a big fan of x-men the movie and an even bigger one of x-men the
movie fan fic.
I've just recently created a web-site in msn and I was wanting to put
some fan fic in it...but I don't have any stories and I have too much
other work to do, so I can't write it myself.
So...if you want...could you PLEASSE send me some interesting stories.
:-)
thanks
~Ice~
-------------------
Send to
<sekhmet_86@...>
--------------------
web site is (be warnd...its small)
<http://communities.msn.com/lotsandLOTSostuff>

Disclaimer et all in part 1.

Author's Note: Okay! Just to clarify because there seems to be some
confusion. As of yet in the fic, Logan has never met the X-Men. Sorry
for the confusion, I probably should have added that somewhere in the
beginning. I think this part explains that to some extent.



"You Arnold Frank?" To his credit, the small man before Logan
remained calm, nodding silently in affirmation. His features gave
away no secret he may currently be hiding.

Of course, over the past months, Logan had faced countless situations
that played out similarly to the way this current conversation so
moved. In the end, Logan had always outsmarted each and every
suspect, succeeding only in making themselves  even more of a
fugitive. "You ever hear of the X-Men?" Raising an eyebrow in
question, Logan could have grinned outright at how well the man was
playing it cool.

"They've all disappeared," offered the small man. Or been killed,
Logan added silently. Still, there was rumored a group of the
remaining X-Men having made their escape to Canada. Despite all the
obvious clues to support this fact, Logan still found the evidence
too clean to be taken seriously. And so, despite strong urgings
against it, Logan took it upon himself to find these
supposed "escapees."

"Then, you knew them?"

"Knew OF them. Everyone did. They caused our city a lot of damage,
which cost us quite a lot of money and time." Logan was surprised
that Arnold Frank was able to say the last with a suitable tone of
bitterness. Somehow though, he knew it was as fake as everything else
about this man appeared to be.

"So you weren't really a fan?" Logan knew for a fact that the man was
a mutant sympathizer, he could smell it on him, but it was more
entertaining to hear the lies his prey came up with. Before
approaching the man, Logan had found it better to stay a few steps
behind the man in public, and observe. That was the key to his
job...observation. Too many times, people's actions give them away.
They might as well scream out their guilt, what with the way they
carried themselves around others.

Furthermore, the Anti-Mutant Organization he worked for had current
files on everyone in the country, and even a select few out of the
country. Despite not having clearance, Logan had... "persuaded" those
above him to let him search through the files, when he'd first
spotted Frank and heard the rumors about his harboring mutants. The
information confirmed that he had once been friends with Charles
Xavier, who ran a school for "gifted" children. In other words, he
housed mutants, and was one himself.

"I was impartial, and remain so to this day." Fumbling with his
armload of groceries, Arnold Frank attempted to step past Logan, only
to be stopped a moment later by a large, stiff arm.

"In this day and age, pal, having no view is just about as bad as
having the wrong view." To this, Arnold had no reply. He only looked
at Logan with blank, empty eyes. It didn't take a genius to realize
that he was being sized up. The moment he received such a look, a
plan had begun to formulate in his mind. A plan that, for no reason
at all, suddenly struck Logan's fancy.

"I assure you," the man said at last, standing straight and proud
while clutching his packages. "I am loyal to my country." Logan
smirked inwardly, but remained solemn on the outside. He needed to
earn this man's trust if his plan was to succeed.

"Then you'll let me speak freely?" At last, he drew forth a reaction;
curiosity. Such an emotion was dangers-especially to the feeble
minded. It invaded one's conscious and defeated all forms of reason
until you forfeited logic for all else. Of course, to the hunter,
curiosity was an added tool that always seemed to work for his
benefit.

"No one speaks freely anymore. Come with me." He briefly looked every
which way, before walking down the crowded streets.
Logan, chuckling slightly to himself, very much enjoying his new
game, stuffed frozen hands into pockets before stepping off the curb
and into the street to follow. Cars weren't allowed out at that
point, and many people were already scurrying to make it home before
curfew. Logan alone continued on with a loping walk and an air that
revealed how little he cared for rules.

Always keeping an eye on the man who was his current victim, the
rugged man thought on his latest stint of creativity. It wasn't his
style to get too involved with those he was about to turn over to the
authorities. Generally, he picked up on rumors, did a little research
to find even a sliver of truth-as truth held little importance in
Logan's eyes. Once he had an idea that someone may be harboring the
unlawful, he pretty much butted into their lives, proclaimed his
knowledge, and watched as they were collared and carried away.

In a way it was rewarding, seeing the people who had once been so
hopeful fall to their knees and beg him for help. He reveled in it,
sometimes offering a glint of forgiveness before alerting the
Organization of his latest find. A piece of him, though, deep inside,
felt himself to be a coward, and worse. He sold other people's lives
away, just to earn a comfortable living for a little while.

Then, just as quickly as the thought would appear, it'd be gone,
leaving Logan to enjoy his occupation, and seek out more mutants to
bust. Every job he did brought him something he had always thought he
wanted. Then, when he'd receive it, the satisfaction he thought he'd
feel would disappear. This, in turn, usually caused him to set out to
work again, because as long as he worked, he wasn't the only one
hurting. There was always someone that would be worse off than
himself.

Disclaimer et all in part 1


"You sure it's safe here?" Taking a sweeping look around the
building, Logan saw nothing but four decrepit walls that could
generally shake under natural pressures at any given moment. The cold
from the winter that still clung to the state of New York filtered in
through the countless cracks in the walls, as well as the window that
had been carelessly boarded up.

"As safe as one can be in this city. I assure you, these walls do not
talk." Arnold Frank set the paper bags onto his wobbly table before
opening the refrigerator. "Please, continue." Pulling out a chair
that didn't seem too ready to hold his weight, Logan simply rested
against it and watched silently for a few moments as the man disposed
of his food into the altogether too empty refrigerator. He was old,
probably in his sixties or so, from the way his remaining hair was
now tinted white. His face was soft, almost kind, yet held beneath
its surface lines of frustration and nervousness. Such things Logan
hadn't noticed at first glance on the street.

"Why should I trust you?"

"I can't tell you that. When the city I once knew so well becomes
estranged to me, I find it difficult for trust to dwell anywhere
anymore. I can tell you I am trustworthy, that I won't speak a word.
But only I know for sure whether I am telling the truth, no?" With
that, to Logan's surprise, the man actually laughed, or wheezed
rather, what with the cold obviously playing upon his health.

"I need a place to hide." He was sure to say it with a tone that was
serious, honest, and genuinely nervous all at once. For some reason,
he had been given the gift of deceit, not something he was always too
proud of. "I don't know what happened t'me...i've been unconscious
for longer than I can remember. All I know is, when I woke up..."
Logan raised a fist, seeing the man's obvious need for proof, and
released from their holding the six adamantium claws that had been
given to him to `make him more sufficient.' "I had these."

The contemplative frown which passed over the man's visage made Logan
wonder, only for a moment, if he had the wrong guy after all. There
were serious hints, such as the terrible condition of his home, his
poor health, and other things which would suggest that he was not
capable of housing runaways. He was tempted to give up his hunt, when
he saw the man begin to nod. It was brief at first, then stronger, as
though more reassured, after a few passing moments.

"I can help you."

"What'll it cost? I can pay-"

"I don't need money. It...it hasn't ever been a problem for me." The
man walked over to a cupboard, everything down to his bones appearing
to shake from exhaustion. Still, frail hands, that Logan felt should
break under any sort of effort, pulled a slip of paper out from
behind some dishes, before he turned to face him again. "This is a
list of things you will need. I can get you a rations ticket, but it
isn't necessary. I have enough ways of getting food necessary to feed
the others."

"Others?" Finally, the man had revealed the secret Logan had really
been going for. His primary goal, having heard of the X-Men and their
apparent disappearance, was to find those remaining and take them
into custody. He saw it as a kind of trophy, something he could flash
into the face of his employers if he ever needed something they were
reluctant to hand over.

"Yes. Five others. You're to share the area with them." Obviously,
Logan looked skeptical, for the man offered a small smile before an
explanation. "The hidden rooms aren't as small as you would think.
There's little room for furniture, thus why the sleeping bag is in
order." Logan glanced down at the list that he had unconsciously
taken from the man before spotting the object among various
others. "There is a ladder leading upstairs to another area, but that
is where the food is kept. We will straighten things out so that
there is room for you there. The conditions are cramped, but I'm sure
it will be better to you than any concentration camp would."

"When?" He was anxious, but at the same time, decided not to inform
his employers of his find just yet. He thought he'd go into the
building and meet these five runaways. Five. The same number of X-Men
that apparently disappeared not more than a year ago. Logan grinned
to himself and wondered if perhaps he had finally found a lucky
streak.

"I will need at least a day to clear the room." To this, Logan nodded
in understanding, before folding the tiny slip of paper and stuffing
it away in his pocket. "And to speak to the others. I must also tell
you, there is a certain routine that must be followed while you are
in the rooms."

"Shoot." Logan choked back the need to laugh at how decidedly
humorous the situation was. It was ironic, of course, that the man
had no idea about Logan's true self, while he knew everything this
man had been doing for at least a year now, perhaps longer. He felt
like he was shouting out to the other man that he was a fake, that he
was not to be trusted, and that the other man simply didn't have the
ears to hear it.

"The rooms are in an old factory warehouse. People still work there
to this day, myself included. That is why, from the hours of seven in
the morning to noon, there is to be absolute silence. Rustling of any
kind will be distinctly heard through the ceiling. At noon, the
laborers break for lunch, often times departing for home. Whether
they stay or not, there will be enough noise that you will be able to
move around freely without the chance of being discovered."

"Absolute silence. Great." The idea momentarily upset Logan. He
wasn't too keen on the idea of having to sit around and stare at four
wooden walls for an odd amount of hours in the day. Still, if he
wanted this kill bad enough, which he did, he would have to endure
it.

"At two o'clock, the workers return, and silence reigns once more
until nine thirty, when they are dismissed and the building is
deserted. Then, you may leave the rooms and...do your business, but
you must be back in with all lights out at eleven, which is the
curfew."

"Alright...I got it. Basically, I just sit around and sleep all day.
No noise whatsoever."

"Yes."

"Day after tomorrow?" Logan had already pushed the chair he had held
aside, and was moving to the door, figuring he had heard all that was
necessary.

"Yes. Don't bring anything that's not on that list. There's little
room as it is. We shall meet at the factory, after the curfew hour
and the nightly search is finished. Is that clear?"

"Yeah, I hear ya." Before the man could pull another lecture on him,
Logan pulled the door open and stepped out into the snow. Behind him,
he felt, rather than saw, the remaining lights in the house go off,
before he heard the creaking of someone walking up the stairs.
Stepping quickly away from the house, Logan pulled out the piece of
paper with the list of necessities written on it. Looking them over,
he suddenly crumpled the paper between his fingers, and dropped the
wad into the remaining snow. "Child's play."

Disclaimers, etc. in first part.


April 14th, 1912
8: 04pm


Okay... next person to walk through the door was going to go down.

Unless that person came bearing food...

Then she would eat before taking the person out.

But first thing she had to do was figure out how to get out of the
restraints. Neither she nor Jenn had any ideas.

The two girls had been uncomfortably cooped up in a first class room
that wasn't being used by anyone. Somehow, they had managed to swipe
the keys for the room and were using it to hide them. The only time
they were allowed out of the restraints was to use the restroom, and
even then, they were guarded by the speed demon, so no hope of escape
was allowed.

Jennifer shifted uncomfortably in the chair she was tied to. "How
long are we going to be here?"

"I don't know. I heard them conversing outside once that this was all
to throw them off of that one girl's track. The one Logan seems to
fancy."

The red haired one glanced around and bit her lower lip. "He going to
show soon? Because I have to go..."

"I know. My throat feels like a desert. But when he releases me, I'm
going to do something about it. We've been here far too long as it
is."

"What are you going to do?"

Amy grinned at her friend. "You'll see."

The time the girl's spent there passed mostly by talking, staring at
the walls, singing songs, thinking about their love interests, and
yelling for help, both physically and mentally. For some odd reason,
no one had come in aide of their cries for help, even though it was
bound that someone had to have heard them.

Amy reflected on how they had become friends by chance. They both
came from middle class families, and Amy's father worked for the
United States Postal services. Jennifer had written a letter that
somehow got damaged so the address wasn't possible to read. Despite
the break in morals, Amy took the letter and opened it in case it
gave a name they could go on to deliver it. It didn't, but it gave
Jennifer's new address, so Amy sent the letter back in one of her own.

From that moment on the two became pen pals. How ironic though, that
the first time the two met face to face, they were taken by a man
named Nathan Milbury. Taken and hidden away like lab rats to be
experimented on. That was how they got their powers.

After they escaped, they were immediately met by Scott and Jean
Summers, who took them to Xavier. He in turn, fully extended his hand
to help the girls who could never again return home because of what
they had become. They were distant and reluctant at first... then
Jenn met Bobby.

"I miss Bobby..." and thus the cycle started again.

"I know, but you'll see him again. Just be patient."

That caused Jenn to go into a hysterical laughing fit. "Look who's
talking!"

Amy shot the girl tied to a chair next to her own a death glare,
which only caused her to laugh harder. The older one watched as Jenn
laughed so hard her chair tipped onto two legs before falling over
onto her back. They both only paused a moment before cracking up
again.

One might think the two of them insane. Here, they had been held
captive for nearly a day, and they were laughing like a couple of
those hyenas Ororo talked about from back home in Africa. It was
during this that Pietro decided to show up with dinner. He quickly
took one look at the situation and shook his head miserably, not
understanding a thing.

Pietro set the meals down before righting Jenn's chair with her still
tied to it. "Why, thank you, Mr. Maximoff," she said politely as if
she were just sitting down to tea with him.

Something was up with these girls, he could feel it. They were acting
way too cheerful and nice to him. Even Amy, who had taken to loathing
him at every opportunity she got, was smiling at him.

"Um...." Jenn started, blushing a little bit. "Might I be able to
make a trip to the lav'?"

The young man before them grumbled an agreement before untying the
girl and letting her go to the adjoining lavatory. While she was in
there, he set up Amy with her food, allowing her to eat but not do
much else.

"So... You coming around?" he asked her.

"Coming around to what?"

"To the fact that you are madly in love with me," Pietro stated
smugly, clearing enjoying time alone with one of the girls of his
fancy.

At that moment, Amy was presented with a few options. One: To laugh
heartily in his face. Two: To play along and hope it gained her an
advantages. Or three: To just simply ignore what he said and continue
chugging down the water brought to her.

Best bet was a combination of Three and Two, with One to come up
later on. "Well... I must admit... You are quite handsome."

"I knew it! I knew you couldn't resist!" In the blink of an eye, the
speed demon disappeared then appeared with a bottle of champagne and
two glasses. Once he popped the cork, he poured the bubbling
substance into the two glasses.

Amy had to admit, what she said was true. He was handsome. But he was
also a self-glorified pervert. Then again... So was Remy once she
thought about it. Only thing Remy had going for him over Pietro was
more charm and the fact he had yet to kidnap her. Despite his poor
upbringing, once he had teamed up with Lensherr, he became a
gentleman overnight. Pietro had caught on quickly to the ways of the
upper class.

He held up his glass in a toasting gesture, to which Amy copied to
the best of her ability despite being tied down. "Lemme fix that," he
said, then loosened her straps even more so she had more free
movement of her arms. "To our wonderful relationship which begins
tonight."

They tapped their glasses together with a *clink* and drank a sip of
the champagne.

"Or..." he mused, "it could always begin right now."

Not noticing the sound of a door opening, Pietro moved closer to Amy
and placed a hand on her thigh. It was true what they said about him,
not a damn thing about him was slow, even his hormones. His hand
trailed up closer to her waist while he leaned forward.

"Ahem," someone cleared their throat loudly behind them, killing what
moment Pietro thought they had. As it was, Amy had been just about
ready to smash the bottle of champagne onto his head.

Pietro turned and glared at his sister, who was standing there
smugly, knowing full well what she had interrupted. "Where's the
other one?"

As if on cue, Jenn emerged from the lavatory and retook her place on
her chair, waiting for Pietro or Wanda to tie her to it.

Amy silently thanked Wanda for stopping her brother. He had been
putting the moves on her and Jenn since he'd taken them. And even
then, when she was hardly awake and in no condition to do anything
but moan in protest, he had tried. Thankfully, slipping back into
unconsciousness stopped him from going any further.

If there was going to be any better time, now would be it. Wanda was
busy tying Jenn back up, and Pietro was probably busy thinking of the
different ways he could currently kill his sister.

The mutant closed her eyes and took a deep breath before opening them
and peering over the edges of her black sunglasses. Her florescent
eyes that usually changed color with her emotion, started shifting
randomly until the colors where bright flashes in between white. Her
perceptual vision changed to darken the contrast of everything in the
room, save for electricity. Even the static in the air glowed
slightly in her vision.

The stronger currents running to power the lights of the room were
what she focused on. Slowly at first, the currents became brighter,
stronger, until they escape the wires and continue on a lightening
quick path of her will. Right to Wanda and her brother's unsuspecting
forms. They didn't even have time to act until they were hit with the
powerful jolting electricity, still streaming from the walls in
forceful currents, lighting up the otherwise dark room so powerful
that Jennifer was forced to squeeze her eyes shut against the retinas
burning power.

When it was over, the twins lied unconscious on the floor and the
lights decided to illuminate the room once more. "I should've done
that sooner... Jenn, you okay?"

"Uh..." was all she responded with.

Oops... she had forgotten about her friend's intolerability to
violence. "Jenn, I need you to snap out of it and get me untied."

Still nothing, Jenn was staring at the two forms on the floor. It
took a few hops of Amy tied in her chair to get close enough to kick
her friend.

"Ow!"

"Welcome back. Will you please untie me? The sooner you do, the
sooner you can return to Bobby."

If anything would snap her out of any state, it was the mention of
Bobby's name. Or anything related to ice for that matter. On their
own personal tour, one of the officers had mentioned iceberg
warnings, which had sent her friend into a happy daze for a good hour.

"Bobby?" she breathed out.

"Yes, Bobby. Now untie me."

Shaking her head some to clear it up, Jenn set to work in doing just
that. "What about them?" she asked, regarding the Maximoffs.

"Leave them," she declared, stepping over the bodies and heading
towards the door. "Only..." she paused. "We'd better take the food."

Without wasting any time, the two friends grabbed their meals and
exited the room that reeked of burnt flesh and ozone. The twins would
not be happy when the woke, especially when they found out what bad
hair days they were destined to have for a while now.

It only took a moment of being outside to determine they were on B-
Deck. Each of the first class area of the decks were decorated
differently, which made for easy identification.

"We should go up to Xavier's," Jenn stated, already heading in the
direction of the Grand Staircase. She was practically running, so
anxious to meet with her loved one again and let him know she was
alright.

True love could sometimes be a pain in the ass, especially when one
was forced to worry about the other. But hell, it was all worth it
when they were together. Since she had only met Remy on the ship,
their relationship wasn't nearly as devoted as Jenn and Bobby's was.
But they were working on it, even through the differences in class.
Xavier was considering asking Remy to join them once they reached
America, which would be a good thing for Amy. Very good indeed.


April 14th, 1912
9: 25pm


He couldn't believe it. He just could not fucking believe it! Who did
she think she was? He was trying to protect her, to help her, and she
blew him off. Sure, she really didn't want to, but the words still
came from her mouth!

Logan had already pulverized the petty excuse for a punching bag in
the gym, so he was currently beating the shit out of his suitcase.
His knuckles bled and cracked at the force against the hard casing,
but he didn't care. The wounds just healed up and blood could be
wiped away. The smell of it only fueled his rage that had been locked
away for too long on this trip.

When he had returned to his room, Jean intervened, sensing something
was wrong with him. After suggesting that Logan meditate to calm
himself, and seeing how that only made the outcome worse, she had
sighed and pleaded with him to at least not destroy anything that
wasn't his, then made a discreet exit. Some non-primal part of
Logan's brain had for the moment complied with that one request.

Otherwise all lamps would be in pieces on the floor, new holes would
be driven into the walls, chair legs would be shattered to pieces,
among other damages Xavier was getting tired of paying for. Probably
not as tired as Logan was of Scott's little prissy speeches, but
tired enough to perhaps reconsider having Logan in the first class
areas.

It was late, and most people would have been in their rooms. So Logan
decided to go down and find some steerage person or crewmember to
fight with. Get the adrenaline pumping and the pain flaring, and the
gratifying feeling of kicking someone's ass.

Once he got down to the lower decks, he found not a soul. Not even a
party like the night before was being held, everyone was gone. Like a
ghost ship. It was such an eerie feeling of loneliness and silence
despite the louder hum of the engines and boilers and everything down
there, that he began to wander aimlessly as he thought about the
situation.

Not until he heard the unnatural splashing did he break himself out
of his train of thought. A place he had been spending way too much
time in recent days.

For a brief moment he was lost, until he saw the sign just outside
the door that read: 'Swimming Bath'. Which was odd... why would there
be splashing from the indoor pool at this time of night? It should
have been closed.

Logan recalled the pool from the tour he had followed earlier in the
day, so he knew the hours. And now was not one it would have been
open for. Curiosity taking place of his anger, he stealthily opened
the door and slipped inside unnoticed.

The room was warmer than the others, installed with heating elements
in order to keep the water in the pool from getting nearly as cold as
the water outside the ship. It felt rather nice compared to what he
had just been in. Logan had been wishing he hadn't discarded his
jacket earlier while pounding his defenseless suitcase.

His hazel eyes scanned the brightly lit room, the water reflecting
the light even more. But it was easy to tell there was one lone
occupant in the room. Or, in the pool for that matter. Lazily
swimming about at their own pace.

Not wanting to disturb the person just yet, Logan sneaked to a corner
and crouched down, observing the form in the pool from behind a
version of the deck chairs.

God had never really been on Logan's side. In fact, he got the
feeling he did something prior to his memories that must have really
pissed the Big Guy off, and then continued to do so even afterwards.
Every now and then the Big Guy must wake up and say 'Hmm... I think I
shall fool around more with that Logan chap... His life isn't screwed
up enough as it is.'.

Then there were the moments he thought that maybe God's secretary or
delivery boys screwed the order up wrong when things go right or good
in his life for a change.

This was one of those times.

Marie Darkholme was the one in the pool.

And not only was Marie Darkholme in the pool. Marie Darkholme was
*naked* and in the pool.

Dear fucking God... he must have done something right for a change.
For the life of him, he couldn't figure out what, but he didn't care.
The most beautiful thing he had ever seen was currently swimming in a
pool. He couldn't smell any nervousness off of her about getting
caught. Just frustration and sadness.

His mind wandered just as much as his eyes did over her glistening
body as she moved, creating ripples around her as the water parted to
her command. Skin be damned, only still getting over the shock was
keeping him from jumping into the water and making his thoughts into
reality.

A loud noise that sounded like wood being dragged across wood made
him wince in pain. Marie gasped and looked around, now afraid of
perhaps being caught. Her eyes settled upon the form hiding behind a
deck chair in the corner before letting out a slight screech as she
made a desperate swim for where her discarded robe lay.

It took Logan a moment to realize he'd been spotted, and even longer
to realize it was he himself who had made the noise. One hand was
placed against the chair in front of him, which must have caused it
to move against the wooden floor.

"Who are you!" Marie demanded, failing miserably at keeping her voice
steady while she tied her robe shut.

There was no way for Logan to continue to stay hidden, nor to make a
run to the nearest door. It would give her enough time to see who it
was, then she'd hate him even more. Taking a deep breath, he slowly
stood on his two feet. "It's me, Marie."

"Logan!" she gasped with surprise. Quickly overcome though, she
spouted back at him, "How dare you follow me!" Her words echoed
throughout the pool area that desperately needed something to absorb
the sound.

"I didn't follow you," he admitted. "I was wandering and heard
someone in here."

"So you decided to spy on me?" She had once again turned around in
order to put on more clothes than just her robe.

"I... well..." he had no good answer for that one. Remembering what
the last thing she said to him was, he quickly started for the
nearest exit when her voice stopped him.

"Wait! Logan, please... I... I didn't mean what I said before... My
parents, they..." she had turned to face him again, unaware that her
robe was open and showing quite a bit of her bare chest.

"They made you say it?" he asked, taking a few steps closer to her
dripping form.

She bowed her head and shut her eyes in defiance. "Yes..." came out
as only a murmur. "I didn't mean it. I don't want it... Logan..." the
words caught in her throat when she could feel his breath upon her
wet skin. He was so close to her, she didn't even need her eyes open
to know that.

His voice was a whisper of warm breath against her. "What do you
want, Marie? And don't think about your parents or your duties. What
do you want yourself?"

"I..." She opened her eyes when he cupped his hand underneath her
chin and forced her head up to look at him. In those eyes she saw
everything she had ever dreamed of, hoped for, and long thought she
would be denied. In his eyes, she found herself at home. She found
undying love staring back at her. Gentleness amidst the harsh
exterior that was Logan. Things she had never seen in anyone else,
not even Graydon. Certainly not even Graydon. "I want you..."

In a rage of blinding passion, Logan wrapped his arms around her and
brought his lips to hers in a searing kiss. A kiss that spoke of
desire, need, passion, and above all, reality. Never had they thought
a kiss could be so sweet yet so savage, to make them feel as if they
were floating on air.

But that all changed in a moments time. Logan felt his whole world
begin to spin wildly out of control, ending only with Marie's scream
and the engulfment of cool water that greeted him.


~*~ Adréa ~*~

New story, new series, I'll post it to the groups
later this evening.  In the meantime, I'm posting
summary and link.

This is a second story in a new series, it's actually
the sequel to "Just About Sex."  You guys like
Dark!Scott, I swear. 8}  I was *amazed* at the
response to that wierd little fic.  Enough wanted to
know what would happen next.  Yes, I am working on
Climb the Wind chapter 8, this was already mostly
written. <G>  Don't expect regular installments in
this series.  I'll write them as I feel inspired,
between and around other stories, same as "The Man
Behind Red Shades."  And yes, even though Jean isn't
in this one, she WILL appear in the series, so I'm
including the scottandjean group. :)

This Series will be called "Special: The Genesis of
Cyclops"
Series Page:
http://www.geocities.com/minisinoo/special.html
(I'm really preening over the title image <g>)

Now, pertinent information:

SCYLLA & CHARYBDIS
Minisinoo

Summary: Scott decides to follow the address given to
him by the man in the silver jaguar.  Incidit in
Scyllam qui vult vitare Charybdim; nam tua res agitur
paries dum proximus ardet.  c. 5100 words

Warnings: Adult! Frank language and discussion of
unpleasant topics.

Incidental Notes: This take on "where it all began"
does not fit into the same universe as my usual
stories. In fact, it will conflict with much of what I
plan for "An Accidental Interception of Fate."
Character makeup is reminiscent of the original five.
Hank is pre-blue and older than Scott, who is not the
first student ­ quite. Thanks to Mo for subway info,
to Leila for the professor's background, what little
we know, and to Domenika for information on Columbia.
This series is inspired a bit by Sarita's
"Beginnings," but what she's done and what I do
diverge.

Feedback: ....is precious. ;>

--Min



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Title: A New Enemy
Author: Ally (roguegirl01@...)
Rated:  PG for language (be proud of me *g*)
Summary:  The X-Men face a new danger for the first
time…
Series: Only if you want me to make it one.
Category: Parody.  This is SOOO a parody.
Pairings:  L/R, S/J
Disclaimer:  They’re not mine.  Dammit.  But the story
idea definitely is.
Archive: If you want this, go a head.  It’s nothing
fancy.
A/N:  I wrote this last night when Jenn demanded a
parody from me during chat.  Why? Because she was
bored, and I was bored.  What better reasons?  I hope
you like the ending, Jenn-jenn.  Oh, and this is
purely original work meant to vent my frustrations on
a certain piece of software…The scary thing is, it was
supposed to be a silly-fic and ended up being seven
pages long!
Feedback: Yes, please!  Lemme know if I should make
more.

* * *

The X-Men were enjoying a meal in the kitchen one day.
  For once, all was quiet.  Logan, the badass
Wolverine, and Rogue sat at one end of the long metal
table, gloved fingers entwined as they gazed lovingly
into each other's eyes.  Directly across from them,
Jean and Scott were talking in low voices about their
upcoming wedding.  Bobby was chasing Jubliee around
the room with a tray of ice cubes he'd made especially
for her.

Storm was watching all of this with amusement
sparkling in her eyes when Professor Xavier rolled in.
  His forehead was wrinkled, and his worried expression
looked misplaced in the happy atmosphere of the
kitchen.

"Professor, what is wrong?" Storm asked.

"I am afraid that I must interrupt your vacation day,"
Xavier said.  He raised his hand at the groans that
followed this statement.  "We have a new and
incredibly powerful enemy working against us.  They
are nameless and faceless, but their efforts to
undermine our Destiny in Uniting Human and Mutant-kind
show great power and relentlessness."

"Who are these people?" Scott asked, straightening up
from where he'd been whispering into Jean's ear.

"Their group is elusive, but I have tracked them down
and identified their call letters: AIM.  We must do
something to stop this incredibly dangerous enemy
before it's too late," Xavier said intensely.  The
X-Men nodded.


"Do they have headquarters somewhere?" Logan asked.
His free hand twitched, and Rogue reached over to hold
that one, too.

Xavier nodded slowly.  "I believe that they are holed
up somewhere in South America for the time being.  You
must hurry and suit up.  You don't have much time to
reach the last coordinates that I know of before
they'll decide to move.  AIM is very devious.  If they
think we are on to them, they will do anything to
hide.  They believe that they are above retribution,"
he said grimly.

Rogue laughed shortly.  "We'll show them how
vulnerable they really are!" said the woman who, of
course, knew all about vulnerability.

The X-Men all leapt up from the table and ran towards
the elevator that would lead them to the subterranean
levels.  Of course, all seven of them could not fit on
at once, so a minor squabble ensued which Jean finally
broke up by telekinetically moving everyone out of the
way and getting in first, then drawing Scott and Storm
in after her.  She waved bye-bye with a small,
triumphant smile as the door slid closed.

"Damn it," Logan said.  He was a very competitive man,
and he didn't like being beaten by someone who, in
normal human circumstances, wouldn't have stood a
chance against his powerful muscles and sharp
intellect.

"Don't worry, sugar.  After all, coming in second
isn't always bad,"
Rogue said, her tone dripping with innuendo.  Behind
them Bobby, Jubilee, and Xavier all rolled their eyes.

Finally, the elevator arrived back at the first floor,
and the remaining X-Men and Professor Xavier got on.
Admittedly, it was a tight squeeze, but they managed
when Logan picked Rogue up in his arms.  The latter
two even objected when the elevator arrived at its
destination because then Logan had to put Rogue down.

Scott, Jean, and Storm were in the dressing cubicles
suiting up when the others arrived, all out of breath
except for Logan and Xavier.  Each X-Man grabbed his
or her uniform and headed for the cubicle designated
for him or her.

Finally, all were ready.  They filed onto the plane
while Xavier gave Scott the coordinates.  For once,
they managed to all be buckled in safely when Scott
took off.  Many were thanking whichever gods they
believed in for this fact, since although Scott was
their best pilot, that wasn't saying much.  Logan
mumbled something about one day getting around to
learning to pilot just so that he could do it better
than Scott.  Rogue patted his hand soothingly.

Everyone settled in for the probably-hours-long ride.
Jubilee pulled out her portable CD player from beneath
her seat, and NIN began to blare out.  Scott tried to
yell for her to stop.  Logan winced and let out the
claws briefly.  Jean glanced speculatively behind her
at the black machine, and Storm was letting little
bolts of electricity play at her fingers.

However, they all knew that the three youngest and
least-experienced members of the group, barely out of
their teens, actually found this oddly relaxing to
listen to, so Scoot shut up, Logan sheathed the claws,
Jean turned back to stare out the windshield, and
Storm settled down into her seat to read the book she
kept in the Blackbird.

After two NIN CDs and half a Limp Bizkit CD were
played, Scott finally did a quick dip that had
everyone breathing quickly and glaring at him.
Jubilee turned down the music and asked, "What the
hell was that?"

"We're almost to the coordinates the Professor gave
us.  Unless you want to just kill them with that
music, I'd suggest you get ready," Scott said
scathingly.

The other X-Men took "getting "ready" to mean "prepare
to risk our lives yet again as Scott lands this
thing--or tries to, anyway."  Everyone gripped their
armrests, each other, anything that might keep this
landing from being the fatal one.

That's when Scott surprised them.  He descended
smoothly, landing with barely a bump and a short jolt.
  He turned back to grin at them.  "The
Danger Room is useful for other things besides
mock-battles," he informed them calmly.

"Now, here's the plan.  The AIM headquarters are
heaving guarded by things called Icons.  These Icons
appear to be robotic in nature, according to the
Professor.  He said to avoid these if you can, but
they're not really dangerous.  You should be able to
get around them easily.  Once we get to the compound,
we'll split up into two teams.  Jean, Bobby, you're
with me.  Wolverine, you've got Rogue, Storm, and
Jubilee," Scott said.

"Are we being grouped by codename-coolness again?"
Jubilee asked.  That was her usual diffuse-the-tension
kind of question, and everyone smiled a little before
getting back to business.

"The teams will take different routes inside.  I know
that we are usually as merciful as we can be, but the
Professor has informed me that these tactics will not
work with AIM.  We all know how to kill if we have
to," here Scott sent a pointed look at Logan.  "Put
that knowledge to good use.  Everyone ready?"

They all nodded.  Scott led the way off the Blackbird
and into the dense jungle surrounding the small
clearing he'd managed to find and land in.  According
to Xavier's information, the AIM HQ shouldn't be too
far to the west from their landing point.

The X-Men moved stealthily through the trees, Logan
and Scott in front to remove foliage from their path.
After trudging along for twenty-two minutes and
forty-seven seconds--Jubilee was keeping track on her
watch--they reached a river.  The trees ended abruptly
here, so they stopped.  On the other side they could
see their target.

It was a large, white box of a building.  The doors
were oddly shaped, looking more like long, horizontal
slits than actual doorways.  Several figures could be
seen scurrying here and there in front of the
building.

"Rogue," Scott called back softly.  The young woman
shuffled forward quietly to stand beside him behind a
dark-leaved bush.

"Yeah, Scott?" she asked, leaning towards him so that
she could hear him better.  Jean and Logan narrowed
their eyes, but since it seemed innocent enough they
kept their mouths shut.  Which was probably all for
the better.

"Do you think you can fly us over one at a time
without being detected?" Scott asked.

Rogue frowned, thinking.  She'd only recently gained
the powers of flight, super-strength, and
invulnerability during a tragic accident in which
she'd inadvertently absorbed an innocent mutant woman
to the point of death.  She was still dealing with her
issues from that and trying to figure out these new
powers.

"I think I can try," she said.  "I'll take Logan
first, since he'd be dead weight in the water, so he
can’t swim over or anything.  If I can manage him, I
can probably manage everyone else."  Her clear brown
eyes shone with determination.

Rogue moved over to stand by Logan. She smiled up at
him as she gripped his upper arms in her iron grasp.
He smiled back proudly when she lifted him several
inches off the ground and slowly began to raise
herself and him into the air.

Rogue made it over the wide river, if not easily, then
at least aware of muscles she hadn't known existed
before.  She went back to get Jean next, and then
Scott, Jubilee, and Bobby were carried over by her.
Storm had flown over the river herself by manipulating
the wind currents.

The seven X-Men headed towards the large white cube,
heeding the sounds around them that would indicate
that an Icon might be near.  The only visible signs of
their watchfulness were Logan's claws unsheathed and
Scott's hand hovering near his visor.

   They encountered their first Icon within minutes.
It's overly-large head and skinny metalic body made
them wonder how these robots could be any use to AIM.
However, they weren't there to ask questions.  They
were there to quell a ruthless enemy.  The Icon went
down swiftly, as did three of its kind in the next
five minutes.  Someone must have noticed that
something was wrong because red lights began to flash
from the top of the AIM HQ.

   "Damn," Scott muttered.  He motioned for them to
split and head in.  There was no use taking out the
remaining Icons, if there were any.

Logan's team rushed into a slit-like entrance to their
left.  The hall they came into was empty, silent.  No
klaxons rang, no footsteps rushed here or there.  That
worried Logan.  "Watch your backs," he said gruffly.

   Rogue concluded that this enemy was at least as
devious and clever as Xavier had led them to believe.
She stuck close to Logan's side, knowing that
Storm and Jubilee were close behind her.

There was a swift slamming sound to their right.
Rogue and Logan whirled around.  They stared in shock
at the place where Jubilee had been.  Storm looked at
them with wide eyes.

"She was here one moment, and the next there was that
sound and she disappeared!" the weather goddess said
incredulously.

"Damn.  Storm, come here," Rogue said.  She grabbed
Storms arm and linked it through her own.  Then she
linked her other arm through Logan's.  "They aren't
going to get any more of us if I can help it.  And we
*will* find where they've taken Jubes," she said.  Her
cold voice sent chills down her companions' spines.

They proceeded down the hall, even more cautious than
ever.  There was a set of stairs at the end, and with
a glance they agreed to head up them.

***

Meanwhile, Scott and Bobby were facing similar
difficulties in their chosen hallway.  Jean had
vanished before their very eyes, and they weren't sure
what to do about it.  Of course, they didn't hold
hands or link arms, but Scott did grip Bobby's upper
arm and practically drag him the rest of the way down
their hallway.  They, too, decided to go up the
stairs.

The next hallway was as eerily silent as the first
one.  Scott scanned the place quickly, grateful for
the upteenth time that his visor included infrared
tracking with the flick of a single button.  No one
could hide from him.

"Why don't we check in these rooms?" Bobby suggested.
They could tell from the cracks at the bottom that no
one was in the rooms, but that could be a ruse.  For
the next ten minutes they searched empty rooms full of
computers spouting out strange simples and codes.
Scott ripped off data sheet after data sheet, folding
them and pushing them into a pocket on his uniform.
Bobby was quick to follow his example.

They reached the end of this hall with no more success
than when they'd begun.  There was another set of
stairs here, these leading down.
Scott, still with a firm hold on Bobby's arm, began to
descend them.

***

Logan growled impatiently.  Storm had suggested that
they search every room they come to, but so far the
only thing they'd found were rooms full of computers.
Nothing but computers.  In fact, if he was smelling
things right...

"I don't think that any humans are ever here," he
said.  He, Rogue and
Storm let that ominous news settle over them.  "I'd
smell 'em, and I don't smell anything except
machines."

"Could it be that AIM is a network of... computers?
Or at least is run by them?" Rogue asked, incredulous.

"It appears so.  That would explain how they remain so
elusive," Storm said rationally.

Before they could discuss this any more, Scott and
Bobby came barreling into the room they were gathered
in.  They looked disappointed that it was only their
fellow X-Men and not the AIM.

Before Scott could demand to know what they'd learned
and where Jubilee was--he feared that she had been
taken in the same way Jean was, anyway--Logan spoke up
harshly.  "There's no one here, and, from the smells,
there hasn't been a human in this building in a long
time."

"Damn...but what about Jean?  I mean, someone had to
take her when we were downstairs!  A door shut, and
she was gone.  Machines can't do that sort of thing,"
Scott said angrily.  He aimed his visor at a nearby
computer and fried it.  Surprisingly, that didn't make
him feel any better.

"Did someone mention our names?" Jean asked as she and
Jubilee entered the room.  She smiled calmly at the
agitation their arrival had caused.

"Did the AIM take you?" Rogue demanded to know,
reaching out to hug her best friend.

Jubilee shook her head in confusion.  "I'm not sure
what happened.  One minute I'm with you guys, the next
I'm in some strange room with Jean here.  On the walls
there was this strange message.  It said: 'You've been
bumped.  Please sign on again and AIM will attempt to
reconnect you.  Don't expect quick service.'  I
thought it was pretty weird, the way something was
writing that on the wall itself.  Whatever it was,"
she said, shaking her head in confusion.

"There was a door to the room, and it was unlocked, so
we let ourselves out.  We've been wandering these
halls trying to find you," Jean said, hugging Scott.

"It looks like the AIM have either abandoned this
place, or they were never here in the first place and
this is just a remote facility for them," Storm said.
She shrugged.  "Neither are good scenarios," she said.

"Should we just leave?" Bobby asked.

Scott nodded reluctantly.  He looked at the computers.
  "Well, at least we can get rid of these before we go.
  They won't have computers for a while, or hopefully
the resources to buy more," he said.

Storm, Scott, and Jubilee were the ones who could do
the most damage in the least amount of time.  Logan
slashed one computer for the sake of it, then he went
with Rogue, Jean and Bobby to make their way
downstairs.  They had to trust that the others would
do their jobs and make it out safely.

Rogue had finished flying Jean and Bobby over the
river and was coming back for Logan when she saw the
three figures rushing towards them.  Dark smoke
billowed around the white building, marring its
pristine state.  She waved to Scott, Storm and Jubilee
and then picked Logan up.  She' have two more trips to
make before they could get out of there.

Once back in the Blackbird, everyone sat silently
through the take-off.  Finally, Scott asked, "Did we
fail today?  I mean, we didn't
even destroy AIM completely.  Of that I'm sure."

Rogue nodded sadly.  "They're probably like
cockroaches.  They'll just keep multiplying like mad
to drive us insane and pollute the earth with their
filth.  Disgusting."  Rogue had a great fear and
dislike for cockroaches, and she loved the fact that
she could kill them in one swift stomp these days.

Jean smiled slightly at the image Rogue's words
produced.    "We'll most likely be facing them again.
Maybe next time they won't be so cowardly," she said.

They all leaned into each other over arm rests and
head rests.  It was important for them to spend this
time bonding, even though they'd only gotten to
destroy some Icons and fire some computers.  Still,
they'd accomplished what they had as a team.

Several hours later, the scenario in the kitchen was
the same as it had been earlier in the day.  It was
dark outside now, and instead of lunch, the X-Men had
ice cream or low-fat yogurt in bowls sitting in front
of them.  Xavier had finished debriefing them and sent
them here to relax.

Rogue and Logan held hands and stared into each
other's eyes.  Jubliee now chased Bobby around the
room with a frying pan.  Scott and Jean were still
discussing their plans, exchanging a sweet kiss every
once in a while.  And Storm just watched them,
content.  It had been a day like any other at Xavier's
mansion.

***

Thousands of miles away, in a small building next to
the burning cavern that was all that was left of their
computer facility, thin men in thick glasses, wearing
jeans and ratty t-shirts even though they could afford
better, were discussing their problem.  The X-Men
seemed to be all that stood in the way of their total
world-take over.  They had to be gotten rid of...but
how?


*G* The end.



=====
You know what they say.  Big claws, big....
~Sarah says from the Wolverine X-Fiction Site

It's the people who claim they're perfectly sane who really scare me.

Shit, that's the one thing in life I do pretty well - Marie care and
maintenance. ~Logan from Terri's "October Fools and April Showers"

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Scylla & Charybdis
Special, Part II
Minisinoo
http://www.geocities.com/minisinoo/special.html

Summary: Scott follows the address given to him by the
man in the silver jaguar.  Sequel to "Just About Sex."
'Incidit in Scyllam qui vult vitare Charybdim; nam tua
res agitur paries dum proximus ardet.'

Series:  I guess this'll be a series after all, but
don't expect regular chapters.  I'll write
installments between writing other things.  I was a
bit surprised at the response to "Just About Sex," a
story which came out of the shadowy recess of a very
late night and a strange wwhat if?'   A whim.  People
asked for more.  I guess readers like Dark!Scott. <g>
This series is inspired a bit by Sarita's
"Beginnings," but what she's done and what I do
diverge.

Warnings:  Adult!  Frank language and discussion of
unpleasant topics.

Notes:  This take on "where it all began" does not fit
into the same universe as my usual stories.  In fact,
it will conflict with much of what I plan for "An
Accidental Interception of Fate."  Character makeup is
reminiscent of the original five.  Hank is pre-blue
and older than Scott, who is not the first student –
quite.  Thanks to Mo for subway info, to Leila for the
professor's background, what little we know, and to
Domenika for information on Columbia.

Disclaimer: Marvel and Fox own them, and I'm quite
sure they wouldn't like to see what I've done with
them.

------

I sat on a strange bed in an unfamiliar room at a rich
mansion in the Westchester countryside, and thought
about the art of second-guessing.  It's a necessary
talent, for a hustler.

I've had to second-guess the desires of johns more
times than I care to count -– men too shy, or with too
little knowledge of the possibilities.  They'd relied
on me to tell them what to do.  Then there were the
dangerous ones, the johns who got a kick out of power
games.  They'd keep me in the dark about what they
expected, but punish me if I got it wrong.  And last,
there were the tricks you just didn't take, based on a
hunch or a bad gut feeling.  Life might be nasty and
brutish sometimes, but I was in no hurry to make it
short, too.  Second-guessing was a survival skill.

Tis time though, I had no idea what to expect.  The
guy was in a wheelchair, for crying out loud.  A
paraplegic.  I'd never done a paraplegic before,
didn't even know what he *could* do.  Maybe he just
wanted to watch me perform, but that wasn't my
specialty.  Still, if it got me out of doing anything
else, I'd work on it.  It wasn't like I hustled
because I enjoyed dick.  After running from the
orphanage not quite two years ago, I'd discovered that
I had exactly one useful skill and one saving grace.
I could play pool, and my face was as pretty as a
girl's.  But when I'd hustled at pool, I'd as often as
not gotten my pretty face messed up later.  When I'd
hustled my ass, being kicked around had come less
often, so I'd picked the path of least resistance and
tried not to think about the fact that I was probably
HIV positive.  I'd had gonorrhea twice and syphilis
once, and the crab too many times to count.  That was
life.

Now, my life was about to change.

After the guy in the silver jaguar had left New York,
I hadn't immediately followed the address that he'd
given me.  I'd been too angry, and too cautious, and
too damn stubborn.  But when cash had gotten tight,
leaving me caught between Scylla and Charybdis, my
pride had faded.  I hadn't known what to expect, but
I'd trusted that whoever was on the other end of the
address wasn't dangerous.  Still, I'd put a
switchblade in my pocket, just in case.  You don't
live long on assumptions.  Even if Westchester County
lay just north of the city, it was a land of
milk-and-privilege that had felt as far away for me as
the moon, so I'd packed as if I were leaving for a few
days not a few hours and dressed in street clothes for
the trip -– old, ripped jeans and a hooded sweatshirt
–- then told Mariana I was going to the library.
She'd stared pointedly at my backpack, but had asked
no questions.  That's why I love her.  She doesn't
play my mother even if she is ten years older than me.
  And she loves me because I don't try to get into bed
with her.  Or rather, when I do, it isn't for sex.
She lets me sleep with her when I have nightmares, and
sometimes she comes to my bed seeking sanctuary from
her own.

I'd left Greenwich Village in the early afternoon
because I didn't want to look for the address on the
matchbook after dark, and this trip was mainly to
scope out my options in any case.  The man hadn't
summoned me and I wasn't sure if the guy in the silver
jag had even told him about me.  Taking the number six
out of the Village to Grand Central, I'd had to wait
for the MTA Metro-North leaving at 2:20.  Eeling into
a seat that opened improbably near a window, I'd put
on my headphones and stared at my faint reflection
painted unchanging over the whiz of scenery outside:
cold city concrete transmuting into autumn gold
countryside, out past Tarrytown to arrive an hour
after departing at a speck on the map called Salem
Center.  There, I'd changed into work clothes in the
station bathroom, then hired a taxi to drive me to the
address I'd been given.  The driver had awarded me an
odd look, but shrugged and let me in.  Turned out, the
address wasn't in town at all but at a big estate in
the country.  I'd expected an anonymous flat reserved
for some rich guy's cheap fucks, though how I'd been
supposed to contact him, I hadn't been sure.  I think
I was more surprised than the driver when he let me
out at the gate to a private mansion.

Shit, I'd thought, as I'd walked up the lane.  I'd
learned fast in this business to locate the exits even
before entering, but the mansion was a hell of a long
way from any neighbors.  Bodies could disappear out
here.

The house itself overwhelmed, had great glass windows
opening above a circular drive and a manicured lawn,
private gardens, apple orchard . . . .   I'd wondered
how many acres it covered.  I didn't belong here; I
belonged at the curb with the rest of the trash.  But
I'd taken the earphones off my head and mounted the
steps to the front door anyway, rang the bell.

*Good afternoon, Scott, please come in.  The door is
open; I've been waiting for you.*

At first I'd thought it was a loudspeaker.  Then I'd
realized:  the voice was coming from inside my fucking
head.

I'd almost turned around right then and fled.  That I
hadn't, had owed to hunger.  So I'd pushed the door
open and entered to find an old, bald guy in a
wheelchair, sitting there in the foyer.  He had an
eagle nose and sharp, small eyes of indeterminate
color.  His age was about the same as that of the man
who'd sent me to him, and he'd looked me up and down
thoughtfully.  In the train station, I'd put on for
him the same outfit that I'd kept for his friend in
the silver jag.  I'd figured it was as safe a bet as
anything.  "Aren't you cold?" he'd asked.  No
judgement, just the question.

I'd glanced down at the short-sleeve, mid-drift
muscle-shirt I wore in late September.  In fact, I was
cold, but said only, "It's okay if you like it."

"It is not 'okay.'  Please come with me."  And he'd
motored off, calling over his shoulder, "My name, by
the way, is Charles Xavier, a former professor of
psychology at Queen's College, Oxford."  He had the
British accent to go with it.  "My students used to
call me 'Professor X.'"

Baffled, I'd trailed him.  He was giving me his name
and occupation?  But I'd supposed that I shouldn't
have been surprised.  After all, the address had led
to his own house, and I'd learned already that the
rich could do whatever the hell they wanted, and damn
appearances.  "How'd you do that . . . thing . . .
inside my head?  You a mutie, too, like the guy in the
silver jag?"

*Yes.  Erik Lehnsherr -– the 'guy in the silver jag'
-– and I are both mutants.  We met when I was
seventeen, and were friends for many years in a world
hostile to us.  As you no doubt were shown -– Eric was
never shy -– his gifts are related to magnetism.  My
own are telepathic.*

Holy fucking shit.  "You can read minds?" I'd
squeaked, stopping dead in my tracks.  Hungry or not,
I'd been ready to flee right then, do not pass 'Go,'
do not collect two-hundred dollars.

He'd halted his chair, turned it to face me.  "Erik
and I do not share the same methodology, Scott.  I
will not read your mind without your permission unless
you are unintentionally projecting – as you are right
now about your empty stomach.  Otherwise, I will
respect your mental privacy in the same way I would
your physical privacy.  You are not here for the
reason you believe, child."

Then he'd turned again and motored away.  Blinking and
unsure what to think, I'd followed.

First, he'd fed me, then he'd given me clothes,
towels, a razor, a toothbrush, and a room to put them
all in.  "This is where you'll sleep, Scott.  Your
room.  You may decorate it however you like."  And
that was how I'd discovered that my status had changed
from two-bit hustler to rent boy at a fancy mansion in
Westchester county.  Looking out the room's french
doors past the balcony, I could see the Hudson River
in the distance, a dull ribbon of grey.  "Is there
anything at your apartment that you need to retrieve?"
he'd asked.

"No."  My former life held absolutely nothing that I
wanted, except, "Uh -– there is one thing, though.
I've, um, got a friend.  Not a girlfriend," I'd
hastened to explain so he wouldn't get jealous and
throw me out.  "Just a friend.  I need to call her or
she'll worry about me."

"If you will give me a number where she can be
reached, I shall have her notified that you are alive
and quite well."

It wasn't what I'd had in mind, and had made me
nervous that he wouldn't let me call Mariana myself.

He'd leaned forward in the chair to catch my eyes.
"You are in absolutely no danger here, Scott.  I
promise you.  These precautions are for your own
protection.  Unless I am much mistaken, you have a
pimp, and he might be disinclined to release your
services?"

True.  But, "I'd thought you said you wouldn't read my
mind?"

The professor had smiled.  "I didn't have to.  I read
your face.  You are free to walk out the front door
right now if you wish."  He'd gestured back down the
hall.  "I can call you a cab."

But it hadn't been said as a threat, just an offer.  I
felt like the feral cat being shown the open door.
"That's okay," I'd said.

"I shall leave you now," the professor had said, "and
let you settle in.  You may shower if you wish, but
please, do change into something warmer, and into some
shoes you can walk in."  He'd smiled when I'd glanced
down at my high-heeled fuck-me boots.  "Meet me
downstairs at five, and we shall take a little tour
before dinner at seven."

I'd followed his suggestion to shower and now sat on
the bed staring into the closet like Alice through the
fucking looking glass.  When he'd asked if there was
anything I needed from my room, I'd gathered that he
meant me to stay.  But this -–   The closet was full
of clothes.  New clothes.  Expensive clothes.  Most
had the tags still on them.  And they were all bought
for me -– my size.  I'd never had new clothes in the
orphanage.  Later, on the street, most of my new stuff
had been for work.  The last new shirt I'd had that
wasn't skin tight had been a pretty woven pullover the
same color as my eyes.  Mariana had given it to me for
my birthday, and Christ, maybe I'd spoken too soon.
I'd miss that shirt.

In any case, I got up off the bed to flip through the
clothes:  jeans and khakis and even a couple pairs of
wool dress pants; polos and button-downs and
long-sleeved t-shirts.  Still in shock, I started
yanking open drawers.  Socks, underwear, turtlenecks,
even belts.  And on the closet floor, real leather
loafers, tennis shoes, a pair of nice hiking boots,
all lined up in a neat row.

How the hell had he known my sizes?  Maybe his friend,
that guy Erik, had told him.  There had been plenty of
opportunities for Erik to have looked if he'd wanted.

But it was a prep boy's wardrobe, not the clothes of a
hustler.  Well, people did have strange fetishes.  If
he wanted me to dress like an ivy league drop out, who
was I to argue?  It must be some weird professorial
fantasy.  Was I to play subsie for all those hot
college guys who'd sucked him off so they could get As
on the next test, then dropped him cold when the
semester was over?  I was a little young and a little
thin for a college boy, but what the hell.  Picking
out something that didn't look too dorky, I put it on,
then tied my hair back in a ponytail.  Long hair did
spoil the effect.  Maybe he'd want me to get that cut,
too.

But I really do hate trying to second-guess johns.
That much I'd give Erik.  He hadn't played these
stupid fuck-games.

Looking at the clock, I had half an hour still to
wait.  I was too strung out to rest, and my head had
started to ache like it did sometimes when I was
tense, the pain radiating out from a point in the
center of my brow just above my eyes, as if someone
had taken an icepick to that spot.  I must be light
sensitive, because I'd discovered by accident that
wearing certain sunglasses helped.  Anything with
red-tinted lenses.  Purple wasn't too bad, either, but
red was better.

Pacing was just making me more nervous so I put on my
shades and went out on the balcony to glare off into
the westering sun and smoke.  I wondered if this guy
would be as weird about my cigs as his friend had
been, and what would I do if I couldn't get more?  I
had a couple packs with me, but that would only last
me a couple days.  I'd do just about anything to get
off the street and know where my next meal was coming
from, but I had limits.  If I played the cue ball's
fantasy games for sex, outside that, I was myself and
he could learn to live with it.

I was almost done with my cigarette when movement to
my left caught my attention.

There was a guy walking up the wall.  Not with ropes.
He was just . . . scaling it freehand, like a rock
climber without the chalk.  He had the goddamn biggest
feet and hands I'd ever seen on a person in my life.
I felt my jaw drop at the same time his nose lifted,
sniffing the air.  Then he turned his head to look
directly at me, blinked.  His eyes were blue, like
mine.

Quicker than I could quite register, he'd grabbed a
window ledge and swung himself smoothly over onto my
balcony.  Like some overgrown ape.  Instinctively, I
backed against the door, ready to flee inside.  But I
confess, I was also as curious as hell.  Erik had been
a mutant, the professor was a mutant, and this guy had
to be a mutant or I was James Dean.  What was this
place?

Aside from his crouching posture and the enormous
extremities, he looked fairly normal with his wire
glasses and straight black hair a little mussed from
his acrobatics.  Good-looking in a weird way.  Seeing
my alarm, he grinned and straightened up, offered a
hand for me to shake.  "You must be the new boy.
Allow me to introduce myself.  I'm Henry McCoy, better
known as Hank.  Welcome to Westchester, Mr. Summers."

I didn't take the hand.  "How the hell do you know my
last name?"  I'd certainly never given it to the guy
in the jaguar.

Shrugging and withdrawing his hand, McCoy perched
himself on the balcony rail.  I might have worried
that he was going to fall off, but after the little
display he'd given getting here, I doubted it.  "The
professor has been waiting for you for some time.  I'm
sure he'll explain it all, during your tour.  How do
you like the mansion?  And those things will kill
you."  He pointed to my cigarette.  "Have you ever
seen a picture of the lungs of a smoker?"

"Black is my favorite color," I said and took a last
drag before flicking the butt over the rail.

I could tell he was no more sure what to make of me
than I was of him.  I decided that maybe I should be
friendly, at least until I'd figured out the score in
this place.

"What do you do here," I asked, "besides climb the
walls and scare the bejeesus out of people?"

He grinned.  "I am a medical doctor."

A fucking *doctor*?  "Aren't you a little young?"  I'd
have laid money that he was no more than five or so
years older than me -– barely out of college.

He sighed, a strangely exaggerated sound.  "I fear I
was born with more than one gift" –- and he raised one
of those improbable feet -– "or curse, depending on
your definitions.  My IQ is rather . . . excessive.
My high school career ended in ignomity on a football
field and the professor brought me here, became my
private tutor.  After that, there seemed little point
in hiding what I could do intellectually in order to
preserve my secret, so I finished the equivalent of an
undergraduate degree at nineteen and medical school
just last year.  I am currently working on my
internship.  The rigors of actual clinical experience
do not lend themselves to academic acceleration."

I found myself grinning at this, and not just for his
dictionary-who-ate-the-thesaurus language.  It was the
whole idea:  ape-man the Einstein.  "Where're you
doing your internship?"

"Columbia Presbyterian.  Well, that's what it was
called.  The name now is rather a mouthful: New
York-Presbyterian, the University Hospitals of
Columbia and Cornell."  He made it sound suitably
dramatic, then shrugged.  "No one calls it that except
on official stationary."

Still smiling, I made a gesture to take in the whole
of him.  "Do they know about the wall-walking thing?"

"Most certainly not.  People like us must be very
careful."

"'People like us'?  Sorry, dude, I don't think so.
This may be mutie heaven, but I'm just visiting."

He seemed baffled, then shook his head slightly and
shrugged.  "I believe it is nearly time for your
appointment with the good professor.  And I must
return to my room."

Then he flipped -– literally -– backwards off my
balcony to grab the same window ledge he'd used to
arrive, and scampered up the wall.  "Hey!" I called
after.  "Can't you, like, use the friggin' *stairs*?"

"What fun would that be?" he called back before
disappearing over the edge of another balcony.  "See
you at supper, Scott!"


.... Go on to part 2/2 ....

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----

Despite what McCoy had intimated, the professor said
nothing to me about why I was there, during my tour of
the mansion.  Instead, he gave me an abbreviated
history of the place, which had been in his family for
generations -– though how his British accent and the
Oxford professorship fit into that, I wasn't clear.
The house had all kinds of rooms:  solar, library,
sitting room, commercial kitchen, formal dining room
and a dining hall both, chapel, ballroom, stable,
indoor pool, workout room, game room, atrium,
bedrooms, lots of closets and other undefined storage
space.  The tour extended outside, as well.  Much of
the property had been adapted for wheelchair access.
There were external gardens and an English-style hedge
maze with a gazebo at its heart.  "You may like this
place," he told me with a twinkle in his eye.  "You
can hear anyone coming long before they reach you.
And the heart of the maze cannot be seen from the
mansion."

Why he was telling me how to hide from him, I had no
idea.  But at least I knew where I could go, to get
some peace.

He took me as far as the boathouse, pointed out the
jogging path through the pines, then we headed back to
the mansion.  But he stopped in the garden again and
gestured me to sit down on a stone bench, spoke to me
about my place here for the first time.  "You are not
beholden to me, Scott.  After you hear what I have to
say, you are free to leave, if you wish.  If you do
choose to stay, then I shall expect you to observe a
few common-sense rules.  For instance, please be on
time for the main meals; it's rude to my cook, to
expect her to prepare more than one dinner.  If you
wish to eat at non-meal hours -– and I do recall the
eating habits of adolescent boys -– " he smiled -–
"You will have to fetch your own meal from the
kitchen.  If you take a trip into town, please notify
someone first.  Keys to the mansion vehicles are in
the garage, on a board near the door, labeled.  Be
sure the key is returned to its proper place.  I
assume you have a valid driver's license?"

I just blinked at him.  "Sir, I don't have a valid
*birth certificate*.  How could I get a valid license?
  I don't know how to drive a car."

This seemed to take him aback.  Then he shook his
head.  "How foolish of me.  Of course.  We'll have to
take care of that.  Do you know your social security
number?"

"Yeah."

"Good.  We can start there.  In any case, if you wish
to go into town, you may summon a taxi, or perhaps
Hank, Jean, or my driver can take you.  But if you do
go, please don't simply disappear.  Otherwise, we may
worry.  Last, please do not litter the lawn below your
balcony with cigarette butts."

Christ.  Had he seen me on the balcony earlier?

"As I am all too aware" -– he tapped the pipe in his
breast pocket -– "nicotine can be an insidiously
addictive substance, one to which you are apparently
already subject.  So I shan't ask you to surrender
your cigarettes.  But I think we can find you an
ashtray."

The dry humor made me smile.  It was also a surprising
concession and, like his confidence to me regarding
the gazebo at the heart of the maze, showed unexpected
kindness.  "I didn't know what you'd think," I said
now.  "So I didn't ask for one."

He smiled at me and took out his pipe, filled it.
"I'll be honest with you, Scott:  I hope you'll quit
eventually, for the sake of your health.  But you'll
find that I am not in the habit of criticizing.  Not
that way.  You've been forced to live as an adult for
a while now and I'll endeavor to treat you like one,
as long as you behave like one.  You can make your own
decisions.  I'll simply be frank regarding my opinions
–- and from the high ground of personal experience, in
this case."  He raised the pipe bowl in his hand, and
then paused a moment to light it. "It's an unhealthy
habit," he continued.  "You must decide if your
reasons for maintaining it are worth the risk, and
that isn't a decision I can make for you.  If I did,
I'd be your parent, not your teacher."

"My *teacher*?"  That made me laugh out loud.  "What
the hell do you plan to teach me?  The kama sutra?"

He sighed.  "No, my young friend.  Simple math,
history and literature.  I told you before, you are
not here for the reasons you think, and my methods are
very different from Erik's."  For just a moment, I saw
anger in the line of his jaw.  "Erik was supposed to
have brought you to me months ago.  Instead, he played
a game of cat and mouse, let you walk the streets
because it suited some fancy of his, and waited to
tell you about me until he and I were past any  point
of reconciliation."  Abruptly and sharply he shook his
head.  "No matter.  You're here now."

"To go to *school*?"  It seemed absurd.

"To go to school," he reiterated.  "I'm offering you
an education, the chance to recover what you missed
while you were struggling to survive.  No one will
expect anything of you here beyond your attention
during study session, diligence in your homework, and
common courtesy to others.  I think you'll like it,
Scott."  He smiled at me, a wholly genuine expression
with no assumptions, no expectations behind it.  Kind.
  It knocked the breath out of me.  When was the last
time anyone had been kind to me for no reason?  Even
Mariana was kind because she was my friend.  This man
was kind without knowing me at all.  I didn't trust
it, even while I was desperate to accept it.

"What's in it for you?" I asked, because I just
couldn't believe there was no reason.  "You really
don't want me to sleep with you?"

A wash of emotions on his face -– anger, pain,
disappointment, resignation -– ending with abstract
sadness.  "No, Scott.  As long as you live here, you
will never have to submit to unwanted sexual advances.
  If anyone should ever suggest such a thing to you, or
pressure you into it, you must come to me immediately
and *I* will deal with it."  The tone of his voice
promised that he could.  Crippled, locked in a
wheelchair as he was, I had no doubt that he could.
"Here, you will be safe, child.  No one will hurt you,
no one will beat you, and you will never be hungry."

Simple promises, easy to say, but I felt my eyes sting
from overwhelmed tears.  I believed him.  For some
reason, maybe just the sheer strangeness of the whole
afternoon -– the new clothes in my new closet in my
new room, his confidence to me about the gazebo, his
generous tolerance of my bad habits -– I believed him.
  It wasn't until much later that I realized he'd never
answered the first half of my question, about what was
in it for him.  "But why?" I asked now, rubbing at my
eyes under my sunglasses, because tears were weak and
I'd learned never to be weak.

"Because you're special," he answered.  "You're one of
a tiny percentage of the population who's
fantastically gifted."

It was such a patently absurd statement, my mouth
dropped open.  "*Me*?  Hey, man, you got the wrong
guy.  I'm not your wall-climbing monkey genius.  My
IQ's pretty goddamn average."

"That isn't what I meant -– nor is it true.  I know
more about you than you might think.  Just how many
street kids spend their summer afternoons reading
their way through the New York Public Library?"

"What the fuck does that prove?  A library's
air-conditioned."

"So is a mall."

"A library's *quiet* -– which a mall sure as hell
ain't."

"Mmmm.  Yes.  And just how many books did you read in
the meantime?"

"If I didn't read, they kicked me out."

His smile grew.  "Fair enough.  Nonetheless, a library
rat is a rather different animal than a mall rat,
don't you agree?"

I felt myself turning red, and wouldn't reply.

"Scott, there is no shame in liking books.  You have a
tremendous mind and books feed the mind as surely as
your ham-on-rye fed your stomach at lunch."  The smile
again.  "In my experience, most mutants *are* above
average in intelligence."

He thought I was a mutant?  Was that was this was
about?  His friend Erik must have led him on a wild
goose chase.

I stood up.  "Professor Xavier, I think you have some
wrong ideas."  He'd been kind to me, and he wasn't
trying to get me into bed.  Something drove me to do
the right thing in return.  "Maybe your friend didn't
level with you or something.  Maybe I shouldn't
either, but you'll find out eventually, so I'll just
tell you.  I'm not a mutant.  I'm just your average
runaway.  Hustling is how I make a living.  There's
nothing special about me, unless you count my eyes."
I pulled off my sunglasses to show him my blue eyes.
I was vain of them. 'Killer eyes' Mariana had called
them as a joke.

But inexplicably, the professor had started chuckling.
  "Yes, Scott, there is something very special about
your eyes.  So we think, Hank and I.  Just what and
how they are special will reveal itself in due time.
And I am not mistaken.  You are a mutant.  I managed
to find you before your power had manifested
catastrophically."

This was just absurd.  But he seemed so certain of
himself.  And what he said about my eyes. . . .  I
thought about my headaches again -– headaches like
those suffered by people who needed glasses.  Except
my eyesight was 20/20, better than 20/20, in fact.

I didn't like that train of thought.

"If my power hasn't manifested, how could you possibly
know I'm a mutant?"

The smile didn't disappear.  "I will show you.  But
first, I must have your word.  Will you stay here to
become my student?"

I mulled it over.  He didn't rush me.  There were
times enough that I'd lied through my teeth.  But if I
gave my word, I kept it.  When forced into personal
humiliation on the grand scale, maintaining small
points of honor mattered.

And the plain fact was, I wanted off the street.  This
man was offering me a way out.  He might be a mutant
and the world might hate him for it if they knew, but
he'd bought nice clothes for a cheap hustler and now
he was promising me an education so I could do
something with my life that didn't involve getting on
my knees and opening my mouth.  He'd said that no one
would harass me and I could sleep in my own bed.
Alone.  And I'd have enough to eat.  "Okay," I told
him finally.  "I'll be your student.  I think you're
crazy, but I'll stay here."

The smiled turned brilliant.  "Then come Scott.  I
want to introduce you to Cerebro."

---

FEEDBACK is adored.  Please....


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Title: A Touch
Author: Kate Elizabeth
Summary: Scott gives Rogue lessons.
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Not the faintest bit mine.
Distribution: Just ask. I promise to say yes. Also at my site,
http://www.geocities.com/moonwhip.
Feedback: Will possibly encourage me to finish the Scott fic I'm currently
working on.
Notes: I took a fencing class last semester; I'm not an expert. Also, thanks to
E, for encouraging me to send this to the list... a long time ago. :)

*****




The gymnasium is warmer than the Danger Room -- wooden floors glowing under a
coat of scratched polyurethane, that peculiarly filtering light of afternoons
through wire-latticed windows. It’s always quiet. One wall is lined with
mirrors, each as still as the next. The big room smells faintly of creased
padding and laundered sweat.

It’s older than it should be. Some other parts of the mansion are like that, too
-- worn out with exercise and anxiety. But he likes it here.

He teaches her here because she needs it. She’s doing better, and he admires her
for it, the way he’d admire an exhausted baby bird after watching it struggle
free from its shell. Only he knows that the shell’s a lot thicker than it
appears. And he figures, if she has to struggle, then he’ll help.

Jean gave him an odd look when he proposed the idea, but he watched her eyes
heat as she began to like the thought. His virtue excites her lately. She wants
him to have as little in common with Logan as possible.

Maybe that’s not fair. But he’s always so fair to Jean, sometimes more than
fair.

He walks through the gym in his white-soled sneakers, which he stopped to put on
just outside the door. The equipment is stored in the second metal locker on the
left. He gets out two masks, two jackets -- he knows her size -- a set of
breastplates, a cup, and two foils. Both have French grips. He tried to start
her on a pistol grip, but he made the mistake of telling her it would be easier.
She just looked up into his face, close to hers because he was standing over her
shoulder to adjust her fingers, and said softly, "Scott, I’m not handicapped,
I’m just a freak. Teach me the hard way." So he did.

She’s late today. She’s often late. She comes in eight or nine minutes past
three, hair wild and floating around her face, and starts apologizing profusely
for a few moments until she notices his smile and realizes that he doesn’t mind.
Then she starts to smile, and rushes off to change. Her heavy black boots mark
the floor as she runs.

He does drills against the wall, bends her foil to make it flexible. When she
comes back she’s a different creature -- hair pulled back severely, the streak
of white like the cold tail of a comet against her dark head. She doesn’t smile
as much in her fighting mode. He likes her focus; it’ll benefit her fighting
technique. She does smile when he zips up the back of her jacket over her light
turtleneck and gives the velcro at the top a little flick. "Thanks," she
murmurs, looking down to tug the edges of the jacket’s sleeves over her short
fencing gloves.

"Of course," he says. He always manages to zip his jacket on his own, before she
arrives. He’s flexible. And he hates to admit how frightened he is of the touch
of her hands on his back, even through a layer of stiff white cotton. But
touching her is all right, somehow.

He tries not to analyze himself too much.

She does her stretches, and a few drills, while he practices against the far
wall and glances over only occasionally to check her progress. When she’s done,
she walks over. He hands her the smaller mask, the one without modifications for
his visor. She tucks it under her arm and steps back, face smooth. Her sneakered
feet form a neat right angle, and when they salute her dull blade cuts the air
perfectly. Sometimes he’s a little scared of how fast she learns things, as
though she can draw the world in through the dark sink of her eyes, not just
through bare white skin.

"Fencer ready?" he asks lightly. She doesn’t laugh often, but when she does,
it’s a sweet sound.

"Ready."

He drops easily into en-garde. "Well, go ahead and fence, then."

Last week she had to defend herself with only parries and ripostes. He watched
her hate that lesson. Every time he would approach, stepping carefully, her
confident stance would fold in on itself until she could only back away from his
attacks. He tried to explain that a collapsed defense is a breached defense, but
she just gave him a look and he let it go.

Today he’s decided to make her attack him. She stands in the same place, forcing
him to wait, and he can see her closed lips through the grid of the mask.
Finally she begins to move. She likes small steps; she’s a teasing attacker,
manipulative and cautious, but her lunges are quick and direct. She tries to
stay away from him.

Today she starts the same way. Little steps, her eyes anchored on his bell guard
and the line of his arm. Good. The rubber tip of her foil toys with his. He’s
going to have to teach her how to disengage soon, or she’ll learn it herself,
and possibly wrong.

She makes a half-hearted lunge at him, extending a little too high, and he
knocks her blade out of line and drifts a touch under her arm to her belly. Her
foil falls to the side. Stepping back, she sighs. "Sorry, Scott. I’m a little...
distracted."

He wonders if it’s Bobby, Remy, or homework, this time. Or if she’s thinking of
Logan.

That last thought makes him feel so sorry for her that he drops his arm and
shakes his head at her. "Let me attack first for a while, then, Rogue. You need
some parrying practice. Okay?"

Her masked head dips in a heavy nod. "Sure."

His first attack is simple -- he beats her blade to the side and starts to go in
for her target area, only to find the tip of her blade back against his neck
almost immediately. "Uh, Rogue?"

"Yeah?" Her foil doesn’t move.

"That’s off-target." Which is putting it mildly.

Instantly the faint pressure is gone. "Oh, I’m sorry! I was just trying to get
my defenses back quickly-I-"

"Don’t worry about it," he says gently. "En garde."

This time he lunges at her, straight, and she blocks it with a well-aimed parry
and just about manages to get him with her riposte. He tells her to lunge next
time, and prepares to go again.

"Scott?"

He looks up.

"Can I try it again? Attacking, I mean?"

"Absolutely," he says, and takes a deep breath.

She comes at him slowly, so slowly he can see the attack begin in her mind and
slide down her arm to the tip of her foil. And of course he parries and ripostes
-- but she parries that strike, and her blade slides beautifully past his moving
wrist to press into his chest just below his sternum.

It’s her first good true attack, just on instinct, the way it needs to be -- the
way it should always be with her. He eases away and carefully takes off his
mask, and after a quiet second she takes off hers. Her hair has escaped its
ponytail and a few white tendrils cling to her slightly sweat-damp face, the
brilliant pink of her cheeks.

"I did it?" she asks, grinning now, the accent stronger than ever. He nods at
her, grinning back. "I scored a hit?"

"A touch," he says. "You scored a touch."

Her smiles fades. She’s silent for a moment. Then she nods, decisively, and he
watches as that fighting focus seeps back into her body and crushes whatever sad
weak part had drained her smile. "Good," she says, and puts on her mask again.
He watches her tiny reborn smile disappear behind the metal grid, and he doesn’t
mind, because even as it vanishes he remembers it again, and it’s beautiful.
Just beautiful.





***

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[Non-text portions of this message have been removed]

Dislcaimers, etc. in first part.

Yep, you guessed it by the title, in this part, the 'berg makes an
appearence. I wanna note that chances are that in every part or
nearly every part I send from here on will involve character death or
imply it (Come on, it's a Titanic fic. People have to die!). I'll
give tissue warnings for the ones that you might need 'em for.


April 14th, 1912
9: 56pm


Something was wrong... Something was very, very wrong...

So wrong that Marie was only certain about one thing: She was going
insane.

It was true, there were no doubts there that she was insane. Insane
like her stepmother perhaps. No other reason could explain what she
was experiencing, what was going through her head. And being carried
in a sack over some extremely stinky guy's shoulder gave her a lot of
time to think on the subject of insanity.

God... she hoped Logan was alright. Some big, hairy, and quite
beastly looking man had interrupted their wonderful kiss and punched
Logan with such force in the head. She had screamed as she saw her
lover fall unconscious into the water before a sack was placed over
her by someone behind and she was being carried through the ship. Her
silence was only kept because they told her they would go back and
make sure Logan was dead if she didn't do what they said.

Then there was that annoying part of her brain that was growling and
snapping things at her, trying to get her to fight back despite what
they told her. It didn't make sense, nor the memories that fluttered
into her mind during the searing kiss with Logan. It was like she
knew what he was thinking, feeling at that moment too. Not to mention
a few flashes of fighting in bars, stalking some wild animal, or
other things that she should have no memory of because she'd never
done them.

It didn't make any sense and it was slowly driving her crazy.

She whimpered softly in the bag, unsure of what to do. More than
anything, she wanted to keep Logan safe. But that small part of her
brain that acted so much like him didn't want that. He wanted her
safe, he wanted her to fight.

New memories came to surface. Memories that had occurred on the ship.
He was talking to Xavier and that red haired lady, the one Marie had
always seen with her husband with the red sunglasses.

{Xavier smiled. "You will, Logan. You will. I know that Erik has
plans for her, but I've still yet to determine exactly what they are.
From what Jean has told me, there are other things. When your double
assaulted Marie, he never touched her skin to skin. That, along with
the fact that her parents never let her touch another human being
arouses some interesting questions."}

Her skin? Why the hell would anyone be talking about her skin? And
Erik... Erik Lensherr, the man that always sat with her family. The
man filled with pain yet determination, and not all of it good.

She and Logan had kissed and nothing had--

"Oh, shit..." she murmured, her eyes widening at her choice of words
that she never would have used before.

"Shut up," a man growled at her.

Oh shit... Oh shit, Oh shitty shit, shit-shit. Something had happened
when they kissed. There had been this rushing feeling after a little
bit, then the feelings and memories that weren't hers had come
flooding in.

There was the sound of a door opening, then another person joined the
duo. But at least this one didn't reek to high hell, unlike the
others. Hadn't they ever heard of something called a bath?

"This would have been so much easier had you not gotten involved with
Xavier's new puppet," said a female voice. The voice was cold, yet
still not normal. Marie couldn't place what her voice sounded like,
but it was in no way supposed to sound like it did.

"Where is he?" asked the one holding her, his voice held a thick
English accent.

"Dealing with the incompetent twins. The girls escaped. But no matter
now, let's bring her to Creed's room."

She was shifted uncomfortably around before they continued down the
hall to another room. Things had just gone from bad to worse in
Marie's mind. Nothing made sense.

Thankfully, it was a short trip. There would be some nasty bruises
for sure as it was. They put her down and took off the sack. Taking a
moment for her eyes to adjust, she viewed her assailants. One was the
big man from one of the dinners, the other his partner. And the
third...

Green guy had to steady her as she felt herself about to faint again.
The third was her father.

Where had the woman gone? And why was her father standing there and
not doing anything about it!

"Don't pass out on us, Marie. We need you conscious," the man that
looked like her father told her. "You are going to go into this room,
and you are going to touch Graydon. You are going to continue
touching him until his lifeless corpse falls from your hands."

This wasn't happening... This wasn't happening... This wasn't
happening...

"Logan is in my people's custody. And they are just waiting to hear
the order to kill him."

At the mention of Logan's name, Marie took a guess at something and
searched through her brain, focusing on the ever more growling and
ordering part of it.

She needed answers fast, and that was the best place to look.

{Teasing Scooter over how flirtatious his wife is.}

{Standing in a deep forest, staring numbly at three bone claws
sticking out in between her knuckles.}

{Beating the shit out of the next hapless victim who stepped into the
cage.}

{Scott and Jean seeking her out, talking about Xavier and mutants and
his school.}

{On the ship. Talking about Marie's skin and a shapeshifter.}

It all made sense to her now. She could kill with her skin, and they
wanted her to kill Creed with it. The shapeshifter... it had been her
father all along, and the Logan in the Scotland Road that attacked
her. She cursed herself for being as stupid as to just accept the
explanation and not dwell further. Yet it didn't matter, she would
never have come up with that answer in a million years.

Mutants were beings with extraordinary powers, and Creed wanted to
murder them all. Maybe assassinating him wouldn't be such a bad thing.

The Logan in her head was not at all happy with that. He wanted her
to escape, for fear that they would harm her after the job was done,
or make her continue to work for them.

The shapeshifter knocked on the door.

Marie's hands involuntarily clenched tightly. As soon as they had, a
stabbing pain shot through her knuckles. With a cry, she lifted her
hands and saw bone claws much like that she had seen in Logan's
memories. It hurt like hell for them to slide through her arms and
out her knuckles, but the pain dulled immediately.

The big guy growled and made a grab for her, but he was slow, she was
fast. With lightening quick reflexes she hadn't realized she had,
Marie moved out of his grasp and slashed at the green guy before
hotfooting it out of there.

The growl behind her confirmed that the big guy wasn't going to give
up so easily. All she could do was pray that she would make it to
safety before the big guy got to her.


April 14th, 1912
11: 01pm


"My God! What happened!" Jean exclaimed as Remy and Amy wheeled a
servant cart in with a drenched Logan stuffed on the bottom.

"After Remy was told he would be fired after this crossing--" Amy
began.

"Somet'in t' do wit' spendin' more time wit' de passengers den my
job," Remy felt the need to add with a slight smile and wink towards
his new fancy. Ever since the girls had come back, they had been
inseparable from their significant others.

She blushed in response, but continued on. "Well, on our way up, we
noticed the indoor pool door open. He was floating face down in the
water."

"Goddess..." Ororo breathed out, helping Jenn with preparing the
couch to set him on.

Immediately after Logan was unceremoniously dropped onto the couch,
Jean examined him. "He's still alive, but we have to get the water
out of his lungs..." Assuming full doctor-mode, Jean instructed her
husband on how to do part of a technique. They rotated with their
jobs, her forcing air into Logan's lungs, while Scott pumped his
chest.

The display continued for a few minutes before Jean turned Logan's
head as he spat out water all over the place. Water drenched
everything before him as he coughed and gasped for air. "Ma... Ma..."
he tried to speak.

"You just technically drowned, Logan. You shouldn't talk," Jean told
him, smoothing his hair back on his face to calm him some.

"There was more, Professor," Amy began, careful to get his attention
before continuing. "The scent of Ms. Darkholme and two very smelly
guys still lingered in the pool area."

Xavier sat in a chair, pondering the information. "Erik's plan has
begun. Kidnapping you two must have been a rouse to keep us off his
trail concerning what he truly intended to do."

"Marie..." Logan finally managed to gasp out. "Let me... move, Red..."

"You need to stay here, L--"

"Fuck it!" he shouted, which caused another coughing fit.

Xavier looked over at the volatile situation. Logan was on the verge
of attacking Jean if she didn't let him up. "Jean, let him go."

"But..." her protests died when the father figure spoke to her
mentally. "Alright."

With shaking limbs, Logan stood on his feet. It didn't matter to him
that he could barely stand, and had to use the back of the couch as
support. He had to find Marie. Something had happened to her if he
was there and she wasn't.

One step was all it took for Logan's form to crumple, stopped from
hitting the floor only by Remy's quick reflexes. "Easy dere, homme."

Marie was in trouble, he couldn't afford to rest for even a few
seconds, let alone the minutes he needed. She could already be dead
for all they knew. They didn't even know what Erik wanted her for. If
Logan wasn't so weak he would have punched the first thing his fist
came into contact with. Violence shed off the anger and frustration,
giving way to exhaustion. That was how he dealt with things.

But exhaustion had settled in without a fight, and it made Logan more
frustrated. His body and Jean convinced him at least five minutes of
resting would do him a world of good. In the meantime, they sent the
young couples out to search for Marie. The girls could help in
finding her, and the boys could help in fighting for her if need be.

Not even five minutes is what he allowed for himself. The next time
he got up and walked, he ended with much better results. His body had
calmed from the lack of air. So after grabbing a coat, he was ready
to go after Marie. With a growl that might have been a word, he
barged out of the room and began sniffing.

There was no new trace of Marie in the corridor. That didn't matter,
he would go and search each deck if he had to. He would rip apart
each and every room in the whole goddamn ship for her.

But his instincts were taking him to a certain destination. His feet
walked him to the Grand Staircase and that's when he smelled her. It
was a fresh scent... but it held fear... great fear... The scent of
one of Erik's dogs, and old nemesis of Logan himself was also there.

An involuntary growl came out, startling a nearby steward into
thinking twice about asking the gruff man if he needed anything. He
took off like a shot, bounding the stairs, following the scent.
Marie's scent got even stronger as he ran.

Adrenaline pumping through his veins, he didn't stop running to even
get a clear sniff, he just followed his instincts to stay on the
trail. When he had reached the beginning of the Forward Castle deck,
just underneath the Bridge, he saw Marie cornered by the hairy brute
near to the Cargo Bay door. The salt of her tears overpowered the
salt from the ocean in the air in his senses.

The blonde beast was trailing an overgrown fingernail-like claw down
her wet cheeks. Her small body trembled in fear at the man who was
two times larger than her.

Logan was certain that Victor had growled something to her which made
her eyes widen more in fear and a choked cry come from her beautiful
trembling lips. Yet he did not hear it. His mind felt it unnecessary
to know.

His mate was in danger.

The young woman he had declared as his own with a kiss down below was
in danger, and he had to do something about it.

With a feral roar that sounded both human and animal, Logan rushed
towards the brute, claws unsheathing in the process. Victor might
have been fast, but Logan was faster as the six bone claws met their
mark and embedded themselves deep into Victor's chest.

Victor howled out in pain, sounding more animal than anything else.
In defense, he backhanded Logan, sending him flying across the desk
and knocked so hard against the wall, Logan could have sworn he saw
stars other than the ones in the sky.

For a brief moment after his senses cleared, he thought he smelled
ice, but shook his head to rid himself of the fogginess.

His enemy ignored Marie and went after the still conscious threat,
slashing at Logan's head, to which he ducked and stabbed at Victor's
knee.

He knew it wasn't good when he felt Victor lift him up by the back of
his collar and tossed him overboard. Were it not for his claws
stopping him just a few feet below the deck, he would have been
destined to sleep with the fishies.

  As Logan struggled to get back on solid ground, he could hear Marie
cry out for him. Victor turned his attention back to the girl.
Knowing she was once again the target and Logan had been thrown
overboard, she ran to the only place she could, farther to the bow of
the ship. Her haste was halted only with what loomed before her eyes.

Just as she saw it, the warning bell in the Crow's Nest was rung.

An iceberg.

A damn huge iceberg was in front and the ship was on a direct course.
Thoughts of her mother's ramblings fueled into her brain again. She
was so stunned by it that she didn't react until it was too late.
Victor clamped one arm around her arms and waist, the other over her
mouth where he had a sleeve to keep her silent.

"Don't worry, Miss. You are wanted alive," he growled into her ear,
making her shudder.

Getting himself over the railing, Logan heard one of the men in the
crow's nest shout, "Iceberg! Right ahead!"

Immediately, the officers reacted above in the Bridge. Murdoch and
crewmembers started yelling, "Hard to starboard!" and other orders to
deal with the dilemma.

However, icebergs were the least of Logan's concern. He still had a
cat to quickly dispose of its nine lives.

Marie didn't know what she feared more. The man who was holding her,
or the iceberg she couldn't feel her eyes from, or worse yet... the
fact that Logan was now alone in the cold sea. Tears fell from her
eyes and down to Victor's hand.

Logan was gone...

The brute's tight grip weakened immensely when she heard the same
sickening sound of something stabbing into someone else. She was
pushed harshly against the railing and spun around to see if it could
be true.

It was. Her love was still alive and once again attacking Victor with
a ferocity she had never seen before. His eyes were ablaze, almost
glowing red in the dark lighting, All attention was on each other as
the two animals battled it out on the front of the ship.

They were fast and merciless. Marie cringed every time Victor hit
Logan, and cried out in terror as one of Victor's slashes hit home,
tearing a gaping hole into his neck.

"NOOO!!!" she screamed helplessly as Logan fell to the deck, blood
gushing from the wound in his throat.

A feral grin spread across Victor's face as he watched his prey go
down. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw some people rush to the
level they were on. He immediately turned his attention in time to
see one of Xavier's puppets remove his red glasses.

Victor was thrown against the railing at the very peak of the ship by
a bright red beam, the iceberg now overshadowing any sea or stars in
that direction. They were going to hit, it was a certainty.

The blast wasn't enough to knock him off the ship. Another of the men
who had come pulled something out of his pocket. In a moment's time,
it began to glow. Just as it started, the man threw it at Victor's
feet, and the thing exploded just as the ship struck. The combined
forces of the ship shaking and the explosion made the overly large
man fall over the railing.

His back impacted with the iceberg with a sickening loud crack and he
fell through a crevice into the ocean. Desperate for leverage, he
clawed at the ship, unable to feel his legs for his spine had been
broken. The claws scraped along the ship as it moved beneath them,
puncturing long streaks into the ship's weak hull. He couldn't see
anything, couldn't feel much in his upper torso except for the
burning pain from the cold and the need for oxygen.

As the ship continued on its course, Victor was pulled away by the
rushing water. With a silent cry of defiance, it sped away,
continuing to push him further and further from his salvation. When
that was gone, he knew there would be no hope for him. He was trapped
under the iceberg and couldn't get to the surface. With one final
thought, he took in the water that surrounded him.


April 14th, 1912
11: 47pm


Staring at the iceberg was all Marie could do from looking behind
her. Victor was gone, there was no doubt there. But she couldn't bear
to turn around and find Logan gone. It just couldn't be. The imagines
of his throat being ripped out were pushed far back into her mind and
locked away in a cage.

She could hear his friends behind her, perhaps trying to help him.
But it was useless. No one could survive what--

No! He was perfectly alright. He was perfectly alright...

Even as she repeated it to herself, her body shook with sobs. A hand
fell on her shoulder and she jumped, turning to face her new
assailant.

But the waiter, Remy, is who stood before her. "Scott says he be
fine, chere. Jus' give 'im time."

"F-fine?" she stammered. Logan, fine? But how...?

"Oui. But you shouldn't see, it not pretty."

She had to see, she just had to. Pushing Remy back, she ran over to
where Logan lay. Scott had turned him over and was currently using
his jacket to slow the bleeding. But it was true, Logan was still
alive despite the gaping hole in his throat and the blood coming out
of his mouth. His face didn't hold the expression that impending
death usually did, just a pained calm.

Her arms wrapped around him as she buried her face in his chest,
still letting Scott do what he was. Silent tears fell from her eyes,
mixing with the blood already on his shirt. "Logan, don't ya' dare
leave me... Don' ya' dare..." she whispered to him.

To comfort her and ensure her that he would be alright, he wrapped an
arm around her waist and held her as tightly as he could. It was a
great pain to breathe and his body was weakening even more at the
coughing he had to do.

The couple remained like that for the few minutes it took for the
worst damage to repair itself so Logan could breathe normally again.
Still using Scott's coat as a bandage, he got to his feet. Marie
never left him as he did, still plastered herself against him,
matting the side of her face and the center of her chest with his
blood yet not caring.

"Are ya' doin' better, sugah?" she asked him, noticing the endearment
she used and blushing profusely.

Relief spread through her like she had never felt before when he gave
her a crooked smile and nodded his head. Footsteps alerted them to
someone else coming up to them. Hopefully the crew were too busy with
the iceberg to really notice or care about what they had seen on the
front of the ship, however doubtful it might be.

Amy peeked her head over at them all standing there. "Guys, you
should come. I got a bad feelin' about this," she said, jerking her
head back to indicated the iceberg now behind them. "Captain just
ordered to stop the ship."

Before they followed, Logan turned to Marie and mouthed the
words, 'You okay?'.

Apparently he couldn't talk yet, that part must not have healed yet.
Concern shone through his eyes and she became lost in them for a
moment before Logan fingered the blood on her front. "Ah- Ah'm fine,
Logan. It's yers. He didn' hurt me."

Most of them returned to Xavier's quarters, but Amy and Remy went off
to try and find out more information even though they already knew
what was happening. The ship was going to sink, Irene's ramblings had
told them that. What they hadn't known was until that moment, was if
it were to be on that voyage or one years from now.

Marie felt good to be in a warmer climate and in the presence of a
man whom she had come to respect for no reason. The kindness he
emitted even in the crisis at hand was enough to calm her as well.

Everyone within Xavier's group had squeezed themselves into one room.
Most had to stand because there weren't nearly enough chairs.

Her face paled at that thought. There weren't enough chairs like
there weren't enough lifeboats.

"Now..." the Professor began, "I have brought you all here due to an
emergency. The ship has struck an iceberg, despite what we are being
told, it was certainly not a thrown propeller blade. Given Irene
Alder's ramblings that night in the Dinning Room, I believe that it
is happening."

"Should I try and create a vortex around the ship? Keep the water
from getting in and transport us to safety?" the black goddess asked
softly.

"No... I doubt the ship could handle it, and you would make the
coming panic even worse than it will be. We all know what the outcome
is going to be."

Marie graciously accepted the moist piece of cloth offered to her in
order to at least wipe the blood off her face. Nothing could be done
about her attire.

"Given Erik's powers, although none of us trust him," Jean mused as
she checked on Logan's wounds, "Could he help if he was willing?"

Xavier sighed and shook his head. "I doubt he would be. He doesn't
have much care for regular humans. Besides, I don't believe he has
the strength necessary to do it."

"What?" Logan growled weakly. Marie could see that the wound had
completely healed and Logan was wiping himself off and discarding his
jacket and shirt.

His chest made her lost yet again, until Xavier spoke, "Erik is
dying. He hasn't told me up front, but I know it. That leaves him
weak."

"Then why doesn't the bastard keel over and die now? Make things a
helluva lot simpler for us."

The Professor gave Logan an amused smile other than a verbal
response. His eyes immediately clouded over as the did when he used
his powers. "Amy's eavesdropped on a meeting being held in someone's
quarters. He suspects one or two hours at most before the ship is
gone."

Everyone in the room looked at one another. The situation was grave.
Very grave. Bobby, who up to that moment had been as silent as Jenn,
spoke up with the one question on everyone's minds. "What do we do?"

No one spoke for a minute as the each considered the question that
shouldn't have been answered, for the question should not have had
need to be asked. Gripped his wife's hand tightly, Scott was the one
who responded. "They will follow standard procedure. Women and
children shall be sent off first."

At that moment, Jean and Jennifer clung to their men, refusing to
believe they would have to be parted. The door opened as Remy and Amy
entered, followed closely by a steward. "Ladies and gentlemen. It is
Captain's orders that you please return to your rooms, put on your
lifebelts, and proceed to the Boat Deck in an orderly fashion as soon
as possible." As he spoke, he opened the closet and extracted the
lifebelts there, handing them to the nearest people to him.

Jennifer and Marie accepted the preservers and put hem on. Marie was
in shock, but her body still complied to unconscious orders.

"Logan, Scott, Remy. You three go to our other rooms and get enough
for all of us. The rest of you go to the staircase and wait," Xavier
ordered.

Logan's hand on her sleeved arm snapped Marie out of her daze. "It'll
be okay. We'll get you to a boat."

"But what about you?"

He gave her a reassuring smile. "If there is one thing you should
have learned about me by now, is that it's damn hard to kill me."

"Logan? Could you help me get my mother and two servants on a boat as
well?"

The door before him opened and he went inside, grabbing the
lifebelts. "Your mother?" Although there was still no indication that
Irene Alder used her powers on purpose to help Erik and the like, he
still felt uneasy about returning her to her room. "I'll get them. I
don't want you anywhere near them."

"Okay..."

"Here, go with Remy and stay by him until I meet with you again. I'll
help your mother and servants," he said as he left, only stopping for
enough time to hand her the preservers.

Marie watched sadly as he left her standing there. She wanted to cry,
to beg him to stay with her, to never leave her again. But she knew
he was doing it for her safety and was willing to accept that. They
would meet up again in a little while and she would latch onto him
and refuse to let go, even if it meant her not getting on one of
those boats.


~*~ Adréa ~*~

I realized I haven't posted any of this series to XMMFF.  If you've
already read this on the W/R list, sorry for clogging your mailboxes.


Title: To Have and To Hold
Series: First in the Wedding Vows Series
Author: Khaki
E-Mail: rimmette@...
Category: Romance
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Not mine, but a girl can dream, right?
Archive Rights: WRFA, XMMFFC, otherwise, just ask.
Notes: This is a short, fluffy story.  The next in the series is
longer.  I promise.
Summary: Logan is newly married and kinda happy about it.

*****

Logan woke to the smell of kiwis, strawberries, and Marie.  The kiwis
and strawberries smell was drifting from what was left of the hotel's
honeymoon gift basket, and the Marie smell was from the woman in his
arms.  Still sound asleep, her breathing was deep and even.  Smiling,
he pulled her closer to him and nuzzled in her hair.  Yep, he could
definitely get used to waking up like this.

He realized with that thought that he had never woken up next to a
woman he loved.  Sure, there had been women, fewer than most people
thought, but still, no one that he loved.  The only women he had met
before Marie were from the fighting circuit.  They were only ever
interested in what they could get from him.  Judging from his dreams
and the flashes of memories, he'd had enough of people trying to use
him already.  Marie wasn't like that, and he loved her for it.

A little over four years ago, in a dive bar in Laughlin City, she had
changed his life.  She had been right that day on the road when she
yelled, "I saved your life."  She had.  She'd saved him from a life
of pain, a life of aimless wandering, a life without meaning.  She
had done more than that, though.  She had saved his soul.  Looking
into her eyes was like looking into the future.  He saw himself, what
he was and what he could become, what he wanted to become because of
her.

Sure, he had left after only a week of knowing her, but he found he
couldn't stay away.  He'd spent weeks, searching the site the
Professor had shown him.  The building was a burned out heap of
rubble.  Nothing, not even one scrap of paper, remained to give him
any clues.  After abandoning the search, he'd returned to his motel
room in the local town, collapsing on the bed and wondering what to
do next.

He remembered thinking, "Maybe I should go home."

That thought had caused him to sit bolt upright.  Home?  He didn't
have a home.  He'd never had a home.  The road was his home.  But
even as he thought these things, the image of a girl with a shock of
white hair pervaded his thoughts.  Marie.  She had gotten under his
skin before he knew what was happening.  He had found himself caring
more for a virtual stranger than he had for his own life after a few
days of knowing her.

It wasn't just Marie, either.  Once she crept through his defenses
and warmed his heart, she'd left an opening, and the X-geeks had
gotten in as well.  Storm, Jeanie, Xavier, hell even Cyke.  They were
family now.

He packed up that day, making it home after only being gone a month.

Strangely enough, Cyke was the happiest to see him return, meeting
him at the steps of the mansion.  Of course, it was only because his
precious bike was back.  Logan didn't see One-Eye again until the
next day, and figured he had probably spent the time in the garage,
inspecting and polishing the bike.

Marie had been in the foyer watching T.V. with her friends when he'd
entered.  She jumped up giving him a smile, a hug, a "Welcome back,"
and his dog tags, then she had walked back to her friends.  Somehow,
he'd been expecting a little more.

The next three years, he'd served on the team, did odd jobs around
the house, taught the occasional self-defense class, and hung out
with Marie.  Mainly, he waited.  Marie started at the community
college down the road after high school, majoring in English.  He
waited.  She dated her friends at the mansion and men from college.
He waited.  At twenty, she started to get serious about a man named
Steve.  He decided to hell with waiting.

He asked her out on a date.  He'd never done it before, and he felt
awkward and stupid, but she'd accepted.  After about a month, Steve
had disappeared.  After six months, he'd proposed, and now, after ten
months, they were married.

Marriage.  He'd never thought that he would be a married man, but the
strangest thing about it was how happy he was.  In one day, he had
made more promises than he had in the previous 19 years, and it'd
felt good.  Before Marie, he'd always been loathe to promise anyone
anything, but it was so easy with her.  He'd promised to protect her
after only knowing her a few days, and yesterday, after knowing her
four years he had promised a whole lot more.

To have and to hold from this day forward,
For better, for worse,
For richer, for poorer,
In sickness and in health,
To love and to cherish,
'Til death do us part.

He meant every word.  He would love Marie until the day he died.  He
would wake up like this for the rest of his life.  No matter what, it
would be a good life, as long as she was there.

Reaching over to the nightstand, he picked up one of the silky,
almost transparent, red scarves he'd put there yesterday.  They'd
already used a few of them last night, and he was either going to
have to buy some more or do some washing pretty soon.  They were
going to Anchorage on their honeymoon, but they hadn't even made it
out of New York yet.  Marie would want to leave today, get some more
miles behind them, but he was in no rush.  Besides, they hadn't even
tried out the whirlpool tub yet.  He didn't want to check out too
early.

Spreading the scarf on the bare skin of her neck and shoulder, he
leaned down to kiss her.  Before falling asleep last night, he had
put on a sweatsuit, socks and gloves so that she could stay
uncovered.  She had worried that he would be too hot or that she
might touch his face during the night, but he'd insisted.  She'd only
been allowed to keep her gloves, and that was only because she was
too worried to sleep without them.  It was worth any discomfort on
his part to have her so relaxed and free.  Plus, he got the added
bonus of waking her up slowly like this.

After he moved the scarf lower down and used his mouth and tongue to
caress her chest, she finally started to wake up.  Bleary eyed, she
looked down at him, and he pulled back to give her a warm, sensual
smile.

"Good morning, Mrs. Logan," he greeted her.

She smiled at the title and answered, "Good morning to you, Mr.
Marie."

*****

The next story is "For Better, For Worse."  I promise it's much
longer with action and a little angst.

Title: For Better, For Worse 1/7
Author: Khaki
Email: rimmette@...
Series: Second in the Wedding Vows Series
Category: Action/Adventure/Angst
Rating: PG13
Disclaimer: I actually do own Logan, and I won't give him up. I
won't, I won't, I won't. Ok, not really, but a girl can dream.
Archive Rights: WRFA, XMMFFC, otherwise, just ask.
Summary: Marie and Logan find out about their pasts.

*****

The returned letter was the first indication that something was
wrong.  Marie had written to her parents on and off over the years
she'd been gone, not wanting them to worry about her, but she'd never
given them a return address until the wedding invitation.  For all
those years, she hadn't wanted them to find her.  It wasn't because
they hated her or were afraid of her, like most of her peers'
parents.  It was because they loved her, and they would come for
her.  They were like that.

After "the kiss," her parents had been amazingly supportive.  They'd
stuck by her, defending her against David's parents and the outraged
people in the community.  Reporters had camped out on her doorstep,
eager to interview the girl who could kill with a touch.  Doctors and
researchers called at all hours, promising cures if only they could
examine her.

Her parents had protected her.  They had gotten a lawyer, kicked the
reporters off the lawn, and changed the phone number.  They had told
her that they still loved her, that her mutation didn't matter, and
that they would be careful.  That had been enough for her, until
David woke up.

She had wanted to be there, but David's parents were furious at her,
so Becky, her and David's best friend, had been her inside source.
Marie hadn't known what to expect.  On television shows, people woke
up from comas just like they'd wake up from a nap.  David had been in
a coma for three weeks, and real life was far different from T.V.  It
had taken him two days just to wake up, his level of consciousness
slowly increasing over time.  Becky said that when she had finally
gotten to see him, he was drooling and didn't seem to remember her.
The doctors said he had permanent brain damage from the coma and
would need months or even years of physical therapy and special
education.

It was then that Marie knew she had to leave.  A casual kiss, no
longer than a few seconds, had changed David's life forever.  What if
she brushed against Momma or accidentally touched Daddy?  She loved
them too much.  She couldn't stay and risk the possibility of hurting
them.  She'd snuck out that night, her dark green cloak and black
jeans blending with the darkness to hide her from any prying eyes
that might still be watching the house.

In four years, she hadn't seen or spoken to them again, but she'd
written.  The letters while she was hitchhiking around the U.S. and
Canada were about why she'd left them and why she couldn't be around
people.  The heartfelt letters expressed her love for them and
appreciation for their support, but explained her fears of ever
letting anyone touch her again.

After the Statue of Liberty, she wrote to tell them that she was ok,
in case they had heard about it on the news and figured out it was
her.  She told them about Logan and Magneto and the touching.  She
wrote about how neither of them had been affected like David, so
maybe if she accidentally touched mutants, at least she wouldn't ruin
their lives.

Her letters turned lighter after that, about friends and school and
boys, about a place where people like her could belong.  She always
wrote about Logan, how he was her best friend, and later, how she
thought she was falling in love with him.  Her last letter invited
them to the wedding, asking Daddy to give her away in the ceremony.
She finally gave them her address, wanting to see them again so much,
wanting them to see her all grown up.

She had really expected them to come.  When the wedding day arrived
with no word from them, she had been heartbroken.  Maybe they had
been mad at her when she left.  Maybe they had realized they were
better off without her, and didn't love her anymore.  Maybe they were
throwing away her letters unread, or worse still, reading them and
laughing at her pathetic mutant existence.

The professor had walked her down the aisle.  She'd tried to look
happy, not wanting anyone see how disappointed she was, but she could
tell that Logan knew she was upset.  He was so good at picking up on
her emotions.  He didn't mention it until later that night, when they
were finally alone, and she told him about her parents and the
invitation and how disappointed she was.

He told her that her parents were morons if they didn't realize what
a wonderful person she was.  Well, he had used stronger words than
that, but that was the gist of it.  She still loved them, though, and
couldn't understand why they hadn't come.  Of course, Logan managed
to get her thoughts off her parents that night and for the rest of
their honeymoon.  No wonder people wrote books and songs and poems
about sex, it was freaking wonderful.  She had Logan's and Erik's
memories, but the real thing with someone she loved was amazing.  In
fact, she didn't think of the letter again until a few days after
they had gotten home and she was chatting in Jubes and Kitty's room
like old times.

"So, was it worth the wait?" Jubilee asked with a lecherous grin.

"A lady doesn't kiss and tell," Marie answered coyly.

"Oh Rogue, please tell me you did more than kissing.  You're ruining
all my fantasies."

"You're no blushing virgin, Jubes.  You know what it's like."

"Yeah, but with the Wolverine.  I mean, does he growl when he..."

"No comment," Marie said with a giggle.

"Rogue, come on, give us the goods," Kitty begged.  "You've been gone
for three weeks."

Marie just shook her head and smiled.

Kitty tried a different tack.  "How was Anchorage?"

"Did you even make it to Anchorage?" Jubilee added.

"Yes, we made it.  Eventually.  It was... nice.  Not what I was
expecting.  In some ways, better than I was expecting."

"Did you even leave the hotel room, or did you get these deep and
insightful impressions from your window?"

Marie was flushed red.  "Jubes, stop it, you're embarrassing me."
Marie looked around the room desperately for anything to use to
change the subject.  When her gaze settled on Kitty's table she saw a
familiar envelope.

"What's this?" she asked reaching for the letter with her
handwriting.  It had a return to sender stamp with the reason for the
return checked as unknown or incorrect address.

Jubilee was glaring at Kitty as the young woman meekly replied, "I
know we should've given to you sooner, Rogue, but we didn't want to
upset you before the wedding."

"When did this get here?"

"About five weeks ago.  You were so nervous and we didn't want you to
worry about your parents not wanting to see you.  Everyone knows that
you write them all the time."

"This says it was returned for an incorrect address, but the address
is right.  What's going on?"

"Rogue..." Jubes started, but Marie was already up, walking across
the room and dialing the phone.

After waiting a few seconds, she said in a confused voice, "Hey, can
I speak to George Trent?...  Um, is this 601-555-2341?...  Ok,
thanks."

Slowly, she lowered the phone.

"Rogue, what is it?"

If she heard Kitty's question, she gave no indication of it.  She
simply walked out of the room, a dazed expression on her face.

Disclaimers, etc. in part one.

*****

When Logan walked into their room, he found Marie, holding a pile of
folded shirts and standing between her recently unpacked suitcase,
open again on the bed, and the dresser where the shirts had been. The
smell of tension and worry filled the air.

"What's up?" he asked. "We moving?"

"I..." Marie looked down at her hands and then put the shirts back in
their drawer. "I want... Oh, I don't know what I want."

Logan felt real fear grip his heart. Was she leaving him? Did she
think the marriage was a mistake? She seemed fine this morning.
Frantically, he reviewed his actions earlier that day, trying to
think what he could possibly have done to upset her so much.

"It's... It's my parents."

'Whoa, time out. What's going on?' Logan thought. Aloud, he
said, "Your parents? What did they do?"

"Nothing. That's... well that's the problem. It's... it's just, I
don't know where they are."

"Darlin', you haven't seen or spoken to 'em in four years."

"Yes, but I always wrote to them. And now... You know how I told you
I invited them to the wedding?"

"Yep."

"Well, I found this with Kitty and Jubes today," she said, handing
him the returned envelope.

Her parents hadn't even opened it; it was just marked 'return to
sender.' No wonder Marie was so upset, but what did this have to do
with the suitcase?

Seeing his confused expression, Marie added, "I called the post
office. They said that there's no residence at that address anymore,
and when I tried to call my parents, I found out that their number
had been changed."

"Sounds like they left town," Logan said with a shrug.

"But they wouldn't do that. They've lived in that house since they
were newlyweds. Besides, they were getting my letters there."

"Maybe they had to leave. The way you described it, before you left a
lot of people knew they had a mutant daughter."

"That's just what has me worried. What if something happened to them?
I mean, what if... because of me..."

"So what are you standing around for? Let's get packed, and we'll
leave tonight."

Marie sighed and started listing out her concerns. "Logan, we've
already been gone for three weeks. The professor is counting on us to
be here."

"The professor can handle things without us for a little longer,"
Logan countered.

"Well, the next semester's coming up, and I have to start classes."

"You can always skip this semester and go back in the spring."

"What if..." Marie started, finally getting to her real worry. "What
if we find out that there's nothing wrong and that they just don't
want to see me anymore?"

"Then we'll know you're adopted, 'cause there's no way you could've
come from people as stupid as that."

Marie smiled a little at that, and then her expression turned
serious. "Logan, I'm really worried. What if I can't find them
again?"

"That's why we're going, Marie. You start packing, and I'll go tell
the professor."

-----

Two days later, they were riding in Logan's Jeep, driving through the
familiar residential streets to her house. It was a chilly day, so
she was wearing a long sleeved blouse and short gloves which stopped
at her wrists. She hated wearing long, opera length gloves with long
sleeves, because they were such a hassle to get on and take off.
Besides, no one was getting close to her but Logan, and she trusted
him.

When they finally arrived, Logan parked the Jeep in front of a vacant
lot that used to be her home. The trees were there; the driveway,
sidewalk, and foundation were all intact, just no more house. Worse
yet, it looked like it had been this way for years.

Marie was stunned. All these years, had she been writing letters to
an empty field? Did her parents receive even one of her letters? Did
they know she was ok? Were they searching for her now, or were they
hiding from her? Why was the house gone?

Logan suggested they talk to the neighbors, and Marie knew exactly
where to go. Climbing out of the Jeep, she walked across the street
to Becky Tucker's house. Becky had been the one to update her on
David's condition so very long ago. Her family had been in that house
longer than Marie had been alive. Even if Becky was off at college,
they would know what had happened to her parents. They might also be
able to tell her what had become of David. She'd wondered about him
so many times over the years.

Ringing the doorbell, Marie heard footsteps approaching and then a
young woman opened the door. She was in luck. Becky was
home. "Becky!"

The woman looked back at her, confused, and then recognition flitted
across her face, followed quickly by fear. "Marie?!?! No!!!" Becky
yelled, shutting and bolting the door.

Marie could hear her running away, toward the back of the house, and
then turned to look at Logan, her confusion mirrored in his
features. "Marie, what the hell just happened?"

"I... she was my friend. I don't know," Marie stuttered.

Logan looked around the neighborhood, and pointing back across the
street, said, "Let's talk to her."

There was an older woman gardening in the yard next door to the
vacant lot. That was where the Coopers had lived, but Marie didn't
recognize her. She was probably new to the neighborhood. Still shaken
by what had happened with Becky, she nodded to Logan, silently asking
him to take the lead.

"Um, excuse me," Logan started. When the woman looked up, he
continued. "We were looking for the people who lived in the lot next
door."

"No one lives there. It's been an empty field for years."

"Yeah, we know no one lives there now. We were looking for the family
that used to live there about four or five years ago."

"I've only lived here two years, myself."

Logan rolled his eyes at Marie in exasperation, "We were just
wondering if you could tell us what happened to them."

The woman looked up suspiciously. "Are you interested in buying the
property."

Logan looked at Marie and then back at the woman. "No."

"Good. Otherwise I couldn't tell you what happened. That real estate
agent gets really annoyed when I tell people. She says I'm scaring
off potential customers. I'm only telling what I heard. There's no
harm in that, is there?"

"No. No harm at all," Logan encouraged, hoping they would finally
find out what was going on.

"Well, the folks next door had a mutie daughter," the woman began.
Marie cringed slightly at the reference to herself, but the woman
didn't seem to notice.

"They'd lived here for twenty years when the girl does her mutant
powers thing and almost kills her best friend. From what I hear, that
scared the shit out of the whole neighborhood, the whole state, in
fact. You woulda seen it on the news. Mutie girl put that boy in a
coma for weeks." She paused, looking from Logan to Marie and back
again for confirmation.

"No," Logan said, lying quickly. "We were in New York then."

"I heard it even made national news, but you might not remember it,"
the woman continued. She told them about the media circus, about the
mutant scare, and how she thought the girl should've been locked up
good, then and there.

All this talk of those terrible weeks unnerved Marie more than she'd
like to admit. She wished the gray-haired bigot would just finish up
and tell her where her parents were, but the woman was engrossed in
her tale now.

A few minutes had passed when Logan stiffened beside her, and Marie
thought that it must be because the woman's story was really starting
to annoy him. They weren't learning anything new, and Marie was just
about to interrupt and excuse themselves when the woman said, "The
fire surprised everyone."

"What?" Marie asked. She'd only been half listening to the anti-
mutant tirade the woman had worked up to.

"The fire," the woman answered. "Burned down a little over half the
house, and ruined the rest."

Then Marie heard what Logan must've been startled by earlier: police
sirens, faint in the distance but getting closer.

"It was a total write-off, I hear," the woman continued. "They
bulldozed what was left, but kept the foundation for a new building.
Of course, when people hear about the murders, they just aren't
interested in..."

Marie fell back against Logan, who was standing close behind her. His
support was the only thing keeping her upright. She whispered the
next question, wanting to ask, but dreading the answer. "The
murders?"

"Yep. That mutant girl went crazy after she found out that the boy
she'd hurt would be damaged for life. She cut up her parents pretty
good and burned down the house."

Logan's support was no longer enough. Her legs gave out under her
suddenly incredible weight, and it was only his quick reflexes that
kept her from falling to the ground.

'Dead?' she thought. 'They're dead? They've been dead since I left.
They... someone murdered them. Because of me? Please, God, don't let
it be because of me.'

The police sirens were wailing now as a cruiser pulled around the
block and came to a stop at the house across the street. Before the
police were out of the car, Becky was running up to them yelling and
pointing at Marie, "There she is! She's the one! She came back to
kill me, too. You've got to stop her."

-----

Logan helped Marie get back on her feet. She looked stunned, and she
didn't answer when he asked if she was ok. Then the police cruiser
arrived and that little bitch, Becky, started screaming at them to
arrest Marie.

The cops immediately pulled their guns: .357 magnums, police issue.
He couldn't think of how he knew that. He didn't remember ever
handling a gun in his life, but he was sure that he was right.

"Freeze!" the taller one commanded, and Logan stopped. Those guns
were pointed at Marie, and he wasn't taking any chances with trigger-
happy cops.

"Step away from the girl."

Logan didn't want to. Marie needed his support right now. "Look, she
can't..."

The measured, serious tone of the tall officer interrupted him. "Step
away from her, now."

"Marie," Logan whispered. "I've gotta let you go, but I'm not goin'
far, ok?" Then he released her, taking a few steps away.

The tall guy wasn't satisfied until Logan was several feet away from
Marie. Then, he kept a bead on them both as his pudgy partner took
out his cuffs and approached Marie.

"Marie Trent," he said. "You are under arrest for the murder of
George and Rachel Trent. You have the right to remain silent.
Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of
law..."

As the short guy read Marie her rights, Logan could see tears falling
from her face unfettered. It killed him to see her like this and be
unable to console her.

The little cop finally finished and commanded Marie, "Place your
hands on your head. Turn around."

Logan watched as the cop grabbed Marie's left arm and pulled it down
to be cuffed. He saw Marie stiffen, and he heard her
whisper, "Please, my skin..."

Her gloves! She was wearing short gloves. If that cop wasn't
careful... Logan took a step forward, only to be warned away by the
tall cop. He protested, saying, "Look, she's a mutant. If your
partner touches her skin..." but he was too late.

Hearing Marie's gasp he turned back to see the small guy's hand
touching her bare wrist. He could see the veins in the cop's face
throbbing as her mutation took effect, then Marie pulled away and the
cop fell.

The taller officer had turned his attention fully to Marie, lining up
a shot. Logan didn't have time to charge him, didn't have time to
push Marie out of the way. Instead, he ran between the two,
protecting Marie with his body.

The bullet ripped through him and blew out his back, creating a huge
exit wound. He ran forward, charging the cop before he could get off
another shot, and ripped the the gun apart with his claws before
punching the man unconscious.

He could feel his back pulling itself together as he turned to look
at Marie. Her appearance shocked him. She was on her knees, blood
pumping from her chest. .357 magnums were powerful guns; he knew
that. The bullet had gone through his body and still had enough
wallop to take Marie down.

Running to her side, he could tell that she was gravely wounded.
Police cars were approaching from both directions now. Becky had
probably warned them they were going against a "dangerous fugitive"
and these first two cops just hadn't waited for backup.

There was no way they would escape in the car, Logan knew. The
streets were probably being blocked as he crouched there. Gingerly
picking up Marie, he took off, running through backyards and down
side streets. She was losing blood so quickly, though.

Stopping in a narrow alley between houses, Logan set Marie down and
considered his options. She wouldn't survive much longer unless he
touched her, but if he did, his gunshot wound would reopen and he'd
be unable to escape. The choice was easy.

Pulling his wife into his arms, he kissed her, feeling the connection
open and willing his healing ability into her. He repeated a message
over and over in his head until the darkness came and he fell away
from her.

Marie sat up, the pain in her chest suddenly gone. She knew what had
happened when she heard Logan's voice in her head. It was repeating,
over and over, "Run, Marie."

Disclaimers, etc. in part one

*****

Marie looked down and saw Logan's body lying off to her right.
Frantically, she turned him on his back.  His breathing was ragged
and sounded wet, but he had a strong pulse.  As she watched, blood
bubbled and blossomed on his lips.  He was wounded!

She knew she'd been shot, and she remembered seeing him jump in front
of her right when it happened.  Unzipping his jacket, she saw the
blood.  He had a wound to the right side of his chest.  Rolling him
on his side, she saw the blood pouring from his back.  Pulling up his
jacket and shirts, she found a palm-sized exit wound just to the left
of his spine.

'This is bad.  This is real bad.' she thought, as she pulled off his
jacket and outer flannel shirt.  She ripped the shirt in half, using
one bunched up piece to cover his chest wound and the other to cover
his back wound, then she tied them tight to his body using the jacket.

~Marie, run!~ the Logan in her mind commanded.

"No!" she said aloud.  Then thought quietly.  'I can't leave you.  I
won't leave you.'

~You can't carry me.  If you don't leave, we'll both be caught.~

He was right.  Her shirt was soaked with blood, and they'd left a
trail as he'd carried her.  Now with Logan injured as he was, there
was no way to drag him far without attracting attention.  She needed
a car.

~The cops are back by our car already,~ Logan told her.

That settled it.  She needed to steal a car, but how?  It was a quiet
Saturday morning, but people were already out in their yards.  How
could she take a car without detection?  She'd never done anything
close to that.

Going through the memories of the people in her mind, she became more
and more hopeless.  David had naive ideas, based on bad TV cop shows,
but nothing that she could use.  Erik had never stolen a car, and
although the idea seemed familiar to Logan he had no concrete
memories of how to do it.  Then, she felt John's memories:  John
Price, police lieutenant, husband, father of three.  His wife called
him Johnny.  They'd been high school sweethearts.  He knew how
criminals stole cars.

He was furious at her.  He was human, and she knew that he would
never recover from her touch.  He would end up like David.  He
screamed and railed against her, but Logan helped her keep him down
and under control.  She forced herself past his hatred to search
through his memories.

~Find an apartment complex or a parking lot with a lot of cars.~

She was in a residential neighborhood, about 10 blocks away from her
house.  There was a grocery store one block away.  She could go there
and come back for Logan, but she was afraid there wouldn't be time.
The police were probably already looking for them.

She dragged Logan behind a rubbish heap from someone's Fall pruning
hoping that he would stay hidden until her return.  After kissing the
top of his head, she turned and ran the block to the Smith's store.

~Check inside the cars.  The easiest way to steal a car is to take
one with the keys already inside.~

She ran from car to truck to mini-van looking for keys in the
ignition, on the seat, or hidden behind the driver's side sun visor.

'What's the matter with these people?  Aren't there any trusting
souls out there anymore?' she thought as she came across locked cars
or cars with no keys.

Finally, she found a '76 Buick station wagon with the keys under the
sun visor.  The owner probably thought that no one would bother to
steal this behemoth.  Under normal circumstances, he would probably
be right, but she was desperate.

Speeding back to the house where Logan was hiding, she jumped out of
the car and dragged him to the passenger seat.  As she shut the door,
she heard the screams.

"Stop right there!"

"Halt!"

"You're under arrest."

Instead of stopping, she ran around the huge car, jumped in the
driver's seat, and gunned the engine.

-----

She heard the helicopter overhead, and felt John laughing inside
her.  ~They've got you now.  They'll follow you with the chopper and
set up a roadblock wherever you go.  You might as well give up now.~

Logan growled in her head at the police officer.  ~I've escaped from
tougher places than this.  We'll make it, Marie.~

For her part, Marie just drove and worried.  The makeshift bandages
weren't doing much to stop the real Logan's bleeding.  Blood was
already puddling on the vinyl seat beneath his body.  He coughed and
blood dribbled from his lips.  The bullet must've hit a lung.  It
could've even hit both of them, judging from the way the entrance
wound was on his right side and the exit wound was on his left.  She
had to get him help.  She wished Jean was here.

Soon she was distracted by the sirens behind her, closing fast.
She'd gotten on the freeway, but the old Buick was rattling at 75 mph
and she felt if she went any faster, the rusted out, old heap would
fall apart.  What was she thinking when she picked this car?  Oh
yeah, she was thinking that she didn't have a choice.

As she came over the next hill, she saw the cars in front of her put
on their breaks.  A road block covering all three lanes lay about
five miles ahead.

Slowing down, she tried to cross the divider between the North and
South-bound lanes, but the Buick bottomed out at the deepest part of
the divider and wouldn't move another inch.

Swear words flooded her mind like water as both her and Logan fumed
at their failure to escape.  Erik even threw in some Polish curses
for good measure.

~Surrender now, and they might not kill you.~ John warned, a touch of
satisfaction in his mental voice.

Logan growled, but agreed that she should follow the cop's advice.
He didn't want her hurt.

A voice boomed through a megaphone.  "Get out of the car with your
hands up."

Marie complied, slowly opening the door and keeping her hands in the
air at all times in the universal sign of surrender.

"Where is your accomplice?" the disembodied voice asked.

"He's hurt!  He's unconscious!" Marie yelled back.

"Walk away from the car."

Marie complied, even though it hurt her to leave Logan, injured and
bleeding, behind.  If either of them were to have a chance, she had
to do exactly what she was told.  John's voice in her head kept
reminding her that she'd hurt a cop, and they didn't look kindly on
those kind of criminals.

"Get down on the ground."

Marie lay face down on the ground.  Her arms above her head.

She could hear them now, feet running through the tall grass of the
freeway divider.  They broke into two groups:  one heading for the
car and one for her.

"I'm a mutant.  Don't touch my skin," she warned in a loud, clear
voice, not wanting a repeat of the earlier, aborted arrest.

They were prepared for her, though.  A large man straddled her body,
and she felt strong, gloved hands grab her left wrist and wrench her
arm behind her back.  The handcuffs, still clamped around her wrist
from this morning, jangled.  The man atop her used the cuffs, yanking
her right hand down to join the left and fastening it there.

Then she felt herself being pulled to her feet.  Turning around, she
could see Logan's body being pulled from the vehicle by the other
group of officers.  His face was a gray shade of pale, and he hung
limply from their arms.  She felt her heart stop for a second in fear
for him.

"Please, you have to help him," she begged the cops on either side of
her, who were leading her up to the road.

"We don't have to do anything.  Now shut your trap, or we'll shut it
for you," one of the officers said, emphasizing his point by
strengthening his grip on her arm.

Disclaimers, etc. in part one

*****

Marie held the grimy phone to her ear and listened to the ringing as
it dialed.

'Please, someone be home,' she prayed as she stood in the booking
room of the Meridian Police Department.

"Y'lo," a perky female voice answered.  Marie could hear music
blasting in the background.

"Jubilee.  Turn off the music!"

"What?  Rogue?"

"Jubilee, I'm in real trouble here.  Turn off that damn music!"

"Remy," Jubilee laughed.  "Quit it...  It's Rogue...  Remy, stop it."

"Jubilee!" Marie yelled into the receiver.

"Remy, quit it...  No I don't...  Remy!" Jubilee squealed, then the
line went dead.

"Jubilee!" Marie yelled, but realized that she'd lost the
connection.  Turning to the surly cop standing behind her, she
said, "Um, they hung up.  Can I call them again?"

"You got your phone call.  One's all you get."

"But, I didn't get to talk to anyone.  They won't know to come help."

"Look, mutie," he sneered, "you're lucky you got one call.  Now come
with me."

Marie was lead away to a room with a table, chairs, and a large
mirror on the wall.  David's voice, always so quiet in her head, got
louder.  This room was just like every other interrogation room on
those cheesy cop shows he liked to watch.  He wanted her to get up
and try to see through the two-way mirror.  She pushed him down and
ignored his excited pleading.  She was far too concerned about Logan
and confused about her parents to be star struck by a dingy, old room.

Soon enough, two men in cheap suits joined her.  One was older, his
dark mustache and side-burns sprinkled with gray hairs.  He seemed
kind, in a fatherly way.  The other man was younger, mid-thirties,
powerfully built, and immediately intimidating.  He threw a manilla
folder down on the table in front of her, pictures spilling out.

It took her a moment to realize what she was looking at, but when she
did, she felt the bile rise in her throat and she lunged for the
trash can by the door, barely making it in time.  The pictures were
of two blackened corpses, mangled and torn.  They were her parents.

Both detectives seemed unnerved by her reaction.  The older one bent
down and asked her if she needed some water.  Marie nodded mutely,
trying to keep those horrible pictures down in her mind.  Some of the
pictures had been close-ups and the rips and tears, grouped in fives,
covered both bodies.

Momma always cried when she got the littlest cut chopping the
vegetables.  She must've suffered horribly.  Marie just couldn't
think about it, but the more she tried to push the thoughts away, the
stronger they were.  Momma and Daddy were dead.  They'd been dead for
years.  They didn't come to the wedding because they were dead.
They'd loved her and now they were dead.

~Marie,~ Logan's soothing mental voice eased her pain like balm on a
burn.  ~It's ok, darlin'.  I'm right here.  I won't let them hurt
you.~

'Logan, you're probably dying out there because of me.'

~I'm stronger'n that, darlin'.  Don't you worry.  I'll come for you
soon enough.~

Her inner conversation was cut off when a cup of water was set down
next to her by the older detective.  She picked up the Styrofoam cup
and emptied its contents, swishing the water around her mouth and
spitting it out.

When the older man helped her up, she saw that the pictures had been
gathered back into their folder, but the folder still sat on the
table.  She returned to her seat and stared down at her hands clasped
in her lap.

"Miss Trent," the salt and pepper-haired detective began, "where have
you been these past four years?"

"Logan," Marie muttered.

"Pardon me?"

"My name," Marie said, looking up.  "I'm Mrs. Marie Logan."

"Well, now that we've agreed on a name, Mrs. Logan," the younger man
said.  "Do you mind telling us where the hell you've been for the
past four years?  While you're at it, tell us why you killed your
parents."

"I didn't," Marie replied, vehemently shaking her head.  "When I
left, they were fine.  I didn't even know they were dead until today."

"You expect us to believe that?" he jeered.

"It's the truth.  I ran away to protect 'em."

"Protect them from what?"

"From me, my skin.  I didn't want to hurt them, so I left."

"So you're telling us you ran away from home within a day of your
parents' deaths and that it was just a coincidence?" the strong,
young detective asked as the older detective sat down and put a hand
on her shoulder.  She couldn't help flinching; she was always nervous
when strangers touched her, even if they seemed nice.

"Marie... can I call you Marie?" he asked in a gentle voice.  She
nodded and he continued.  "Marie, my partner here's a little upset.
He's been working this case since your parents were killed, you see?
Well, it's just got us real confused.  If you didn't kill your
parents, who did?"

Marie sat there, trying to think of anyone who could've done it, but
there was nobody.  They were well-liked in the neighborhood.  Her
father was doing well at work.  So far as she knew, they didn't have
money problems.  She could feel Logan trying to help as well.  Erik
and David didn't have any ideas, and John was convinced that she had
done it.

~Darlin', I need to see the pictures again.~

'I can't.  Logan, don't ask me to look at those...'

~Gimme control, Marie.  I'll look, and you won't have to.  I have an
idea, but I need to see 'em again.~

Marie nodded and closed her eyes.  When she reopened them, she
couldn't see anything.  Logan was blocking her vision, but she could
still hear, touch, smell, everything but see.  He was protecting her.

"I need ta see those pictures again," Logan told the detectives in a
gruffer version of Marie's voice.

The older man asked, "Are you sure, Mrs. Logan?"

"Yep."

The manilla folder was opened and the pictures were spread out before
him.  Logan pushed away the wider angles, focusing only on the close-
ups.  There it was, plain as day.

"There," Logan said, pushing the picture towards the detective who
had been kind to Marie, and pointing at the close-up of the wounds to
her mother's belly.

"What?  Proud of your handiwork?" the younger detective asked
sarcastically.

It took all the will-power Logan had not to growl at the man.  If he
was in his own body, he woulda taken the guy down without hesitation,
but he couldn't put Marie in any more danger.

"Those're claw marks.  Five-fingered claw marks, not knife wounds.
Mar - I don't have claws."

"You're a mutant.  How do we know you don't?  How do we know you
didn't four years ago?"

"I don't, never have.  The guy you're looking fer is called
Sabretooth.  He tracked Ma - me down in Canada.  I never wondered how
he found me.  He musta tracked me from here all the way up there."

"Tracked, how?" the younger man asked, disbelieving.

"Well, he has a real good sense of smell."

`Logan.`

~Yeah, darlin'?~

`I had a map on my bedroom wall from Meridian to Anchorage.  You
remember that trip I told you I wanted to take?  I pretty much
followed that route when I ran away.'

"Uh, I also had a map in my room.  I wanted to take a trip to
Anchorage and kinda followed the route when I ran away," Logan added
for the policemen's benefit.

"Do you know this Sabretooth's real name?"

"Uh, no, but it hadta be him."

After several more hours of tiring interrogation, where Marie had to
answer and re-answer all the questions posed to her, with Logan's
help and support, she was finally placed in a cell.

She was alone, since her skin was dangerous to the other prisoners.
Even though the bed was relatively clean and it was about one in the
morning, she couldn't sleep.  She couldn't stop thinking that her
parents' deaths were her fault.  Sabretooth had come after her.  He
must've tortured them when he couldn't find her.  They didn't know
where she was.  There was no way they could've saved themselves.  It
was all her fault.

Logan's mental voice tried to assuage her guilt, telling her that she
didn't know, that if she had been there, she would've died in
Magneto's machine.  Despite his words, she couldn't help thinking
that if she had been there, they wouldn't have died.

~Darlin', you always told me they loved you.~ Logan said.

'Yeah.  I think they really did,' Marie replied.  'That's what makes
it so hard.'

~If they loved you, they never woulda let Sabretooth take you unless
they died first.  It wasn't your fault, Marie.~

-----

"Hello?"

"Professor?"

"This had better be good.  It's Sunday morning!"

"Trust me, sir, you want to know about this.  A hospital in Meridian,
Mississippi, is asking for assistance in treating a patient of
theirs."

"And I care how?"

"The patient has a chest wound, but they can't open the chest because
of his metal skeleton."

The professor stood up so quickly, he banged the back of his head on
the top of the cupboard he'd been reaching into and dropped the
cordless phone.

When he'd finally grabbed the phone again, he asked, "Weapon X?"

"Almost assuredly."

"What is he doing in a hospital, Cornelius?"

"I asked that.  Turns out he was traveling in the company of another
mutant, a woman who can kill with a touch."

"Where is she now?"

"The city jail, something about a murder charge."

"Get the charges dropped and send out the team.  I want them both."

Disclaimers, etc. in part one.

*****

"Get up, mutie!"

Marie had finally been able to fall asleep only hours before, and now
she was being awakened by a loud banging and a hateful voice yelling
at her.  When she opened her eyes and saw the bare, concrete ceiling
and walls, she remembered where she was and everything that had
happened yesterday to her and Logan.  Logan had been seriously
injured, and no one had told her anything about him.  Did they take
him to a hospital?  Was he lying in a prison cell like this one,
untreated and bleeding?  Was he dead?  NO!  She wouldn't even think
that.  Logan was ok.  He had to be.

The repetitive banging and yelling continued as the guard standing at
the cell entrance hit the bars with his nightstick.

"C'mon.  Get up.  You're not our problem anymore."

"What about my husband?" Marie muttered, sitting herself up.  "I need
to know how he is.  You have to..."

"I don't *have* to do anything.  You want something; you talk to
them," the guard said, indicating someone standing outside her field
of vision.

When Marie stood and walked to the barred doorway, she saw five men
standing there.  Their black uniforms were unmarked, but they gave
the impression of military personnel.  Logan growled deep within her,
and she could feel his instant distrust.

"Turn around," one of the men said, a tall man with blond hair and
nordic features.

She did as she was told and backed up to the bars when instructed to
do so.  She felt hands grab her arms and handcuff her wrists behind
her back, then she heard the door to the cell creak open.

"This way."

She was lead past the crowded cells, through the booking room, past
the reception area, and out into the sunlight.  There were more men
in similar black outfits flanking a nondescript, black van.  There
was an older man in a suit, his back turned to Marie, giving orders
to two of them.

~I don't like this, darlin'.  First break you see, run for it,~
Logan's voice whispered to her consciousness.

Silently, she nodded, agreeing wholeheartedly with his assessment.
Slowly, she began to fiddle with her gloves, trying to pull the
fabric through the handcuffs and off.

When the older man turned, she felt Logan's shock and fear mingle
with her own.  His mustache was gone, his red hair had lightened and
thinned out, but he was instantly recognizable.  She had seen him in
Logan's dreams.  He had been there, had been one of the doctors that
tortured Logan.  He had been one of the few to have a name.

"Cornelius," Marie growled.

The older man's face transformed in surprise and shock as he pushed
his way towards her, waving the uniformed men away.  "How do you know
my name?"

"I remember you," she replied, ramming her knee into his most
vulnerable spot and breaking off in a run.

She could hear the man collapse behind her as the others, seeing her
flight, shouted and started to run after her.  Her pace was slowed by
her bound hands, and she hadn't made it halfway down the block before
she was tackled.  Unable to bring her arms out to break her fall, she
plowed head first into the concrete sidewalk, passing out before she
even felt the pain.

-----

Marie slowly awoke to the voices of two men standing over her.  She
kept her eyes shut and her breathing even, feigning sleep so she
could get her bearings.

She was on a metal table from the cold, hard feel of it, and judging
from the breeze of the air conditioning, she was a lot less covered
than she was used to.  In fact, it felt like she was only wearing one
of those thin hospital gowns.

There were leather straps at her head, shoulders, hips, wrists, and
ankles to hold her down.  There was no way to test the strength of
her bonds without giving herself away, so she lay still and listened.

"You said she had a head wound?" asked a man with an old, scratchy
voice.

"Yes, a pretty nasty one, but it's gone now," said a familiar voice,
Cornelius from the police station.

"Fascinating.  And you said she *remembered* you?"

"Apparently.  She knew my name.  Weapon X must've told her about us."

Weapon X?  That name sounded so familiar to both her and Logan.  Is
that what they used to call him when he was under their control?

"That doesn't explain her healing abilities.  I think this has
something to do with her mutation.  You said she was rumored to kill
with a touch.  What if the way that she kills is absorbing the
memories and powers of the person she touches?"

Oh, hell!  They knew what she could do.  She had to get out of here
before they started running experiments on her like they'd done to
Logan.

"An intriguing theory.  Too bad we don't have any mutants in the
facility to test her on."

'Yeah, too bad,' Marie thought.  'I'll just be going now.'

"Not true, there is one mutant."

"Weapon X?"

Logan?  Logan was here?

"He was always intractable and difficult to manipulate.  If we could
transfer his abilities to her, she would most likely be easier to
control.  We could then remove the adamantium from his corpse and
feed it into her body."

NO!!!  They couldn't... She wouldn't...  She'd die before she hurt
Logan.  They'd never get her to touch him.

"We'd have all the abilities that Weapon X has now with a more
malleable mind."

'Malleable, my ass,' she fumed.  'You even try to hurt Logan, and
I'll rip your throat out.'

"Don't forget the added bonus of her natural mutation.  We'd have the
ultimate upgradable weapon.  Any needed skills or abilities could be
acquired with a simple touch."

"But professor, we don't even know if these are her abilities.  We
can't take the risk of losing Weapon X until we're sure, and we don't
have any other mutants in the compound right now for tests."

'Yeah, you tell 'em, Cornelius,' she thought.

"Who said anything about testing her on mutants?  There are plenty of
soldiers around here with desirable abilities."

"Professor, no, that's going too far."

"Actually, I think that it's an excellent notion."

-----

The men left her to her thoughts in the silent room.  After what felt
like days, but was probably no longer than an hour, she finally dared
to peek at her surroundings.  The room was white.  She was surrounded
by a stark white ceiling, walls, and floor.  There were pristine
countertops lining the walls on which expensive equipment sat.

Pulling at her restraints until her wrists and ankles were raw and
sore did nothing to improve her situation.  The bonds were tight and
strong.  Lying there, she could feel the tingle as her wounds healed,
and that reminded her of Logan.  If she was still healing, then he
was probably still injured.

She wished in that moment, more than she ever had in her life, that
she was a telepath.  They needed help, and there was no way they were
going to get it.  Jean and the Professor were too ethical to
constantly monitor other people's thoughts.  The professor would have
to be in Cerebro and looking for her before he would realize they
were in trouble.

Damn Jubilee and Remy!  Why had they been flirting and carrying on
like teenagers when she needed help?  It must've been a day since the
phone call and no one had shown up to rescue them, so she could only
assume that Jubilee hadn't realized the urgency of her message before
they were cut off.

Her mental rantings were interrupted when Cornelius, a man who had to
be in his mid-seventies, and a middle-aged, mousy woman entered the
room.  She recognized the two new people from Logan's memories as
well:  the professor and Hines.

"So, the gang's all here," she drawled.

Hines and Cornelius were pushing a stretcher on which lay one of the
anonymous, black-uniformed men.  He was obviously drugged and the
sleeve on his limp left arm had been pulled up to his shoulder,
exposing his skin.

The gurney was pushed against her bed, and she knew instantly what
they were going to do.  As she struggled fruitlessly against her
bonds, she knew she couldn't prevent it.  They were going to force
her to absorb this man.

"No!" she yelled.  "Cornelius, you said this was wrong.  You said you
wouldn't do it.  Hines, help me.  You can't do this!"

Her protests fell on deaf ears and as she watched, the professor
lifted the soldier's arm and placed it over her own.  She felt the
connection open instantly, and although she squirmed and fought with
all her might, she couldn't get away from that touch.

Derek.  His name was Derek Michael Tucker, and he hated mutants.  The
only good mutie is a dead mutie.  If they could be experimented on,
made to work for humans before they died, all the better.  He fully
supported the professor until earlier today, when he was drugged at
his duty post.  Now he was furious, raging at her.  He wouldn't be
dying if it wasn't for her and her mutie skin.

Derek had been chosen because he was a munitions expert.  The
professor thought those skills would be useful for his ultimate
weapon to possess.  Of course, Derek was flooding her mind now with
all the painful, explosive ways he wanted to kill her.  Blowing her
up was too quick a death.  Maybe he'd just blow off a hand or a foot
a let her bleed to death.  Maybe he'd just burn her with a fire bomb
and let her suffer for days as she slowly died.

Soon the flood of memories slowed to a trickle and stopped.  The body
was pulled away, and she was left alone in the room again, tears
wracking her body.

-----

Over the next few days, she writhed in insanity.

Derek was so strong, stronger than even Logan was, and he hated her.
He and John were instant friends, and they joined forces to take over
her mind.  It would have been so easy to just give up control, to
find a quiet corner of her mind and hide forever, but Logan wouldn't
let her.

~Don't give up, Marie.  Fight them,~ Logan urged, but his voice was
so faint in comparison to Derek's, and Derek was helping John.

'I can't.  They're too strong.'

~You're no quitter, darlin'.  This is your mind.  You're the
strongest one here.  You can do this.~

The battle raged within her.  Logan fought beside her and even Erik's
and David's faint remains tried to help, but the bulk of the fight
still fell to her.  Eventually, she was able to cage Derek and quiet
his voice to a low whisper.  With Derek reigned in, it was easier to
return John to his own confinement.  Finally back in some semblance
of control and exhausted from her ordeal, she slept almost fifteen
hours before waking again.

-----

They were waiting.  They came in to monitor her, test her, ask her
questions about her new personality, but mostly they were waiting.
That morning, almost a week after she'd regained her senses, she knew
that the waiting was over.

They entered her room, like they had a week and a half ago, pushing a
gurney with another body on it.  It was Logan.

"NOOOOO!!!!" Marie screamed, thrashing on her bed.  "No!  I won't!
What did you do to him?!?  Go away!  No!"

For his part, Logan lay insensate on the stretcher, dressed in a
matching hospital gown to her own.  Her healing ability had gone away
at some time during her psychotic episode, and once she came back to
her senses, she assumed that Logan would heal and they'd escape.
When days passed with no sign of him, she'd begun to worry.  There
wasn't much that could keep Logan down.

Now, looking at his limp form, she knew they must have drugged him,
and now they were going to force her to kill him.  Terrified to her
very core, Marie redirected her pleading to her husband as the
professor pushed Logan's gurney next to her bed.

"Logan!!!  Wake up!  Logan, please!"

The professor picked up Logan's exposed arm, and Marie shrieked in a
burst of mind-numbing panic, "LO-GAN!!!!"

Disclaimers, etc. in part one.

*****

The cloying scent of Marie's terror brought Logan crashing into
consciousness as her shrieks reached his ears. His claws were out and
plunging into the man holding his arm before he even opened his eyes.
When he did, he was thrown into a waking nightmare.

It was hard to focus, he blinked hard and shook his head, but he
still saw everything in threes. He had six arms holding the dead
weight of three old scientists. No, not just any old scientist. Even
through the drug-induced haze, he could tell. It was "the professor,"
older and completely bald, but still wearing those damned square-
rimmed glasses.

Pulling back roughly, he allowed the man's corpse to fall to the
floor as he turned to the other people in the room. Three Cornelius's
ran towards the exit. He jumped from the gurney, and stumbled after
the man. His reflexes were shot, but he was still more than a match
for the pasty, well-rounded doctor. He intended to gut the man that
had caused him so much pain, but the doctor fell to his knees as
Logan struck and he slit his throat instead. Blood sprayed everywhere
as the man fell, twitching on the floor.

Logan turned, searching for Hines, only to find her standing over
Marie, one, latex-gloved hand pulling her chin back while the other
held a scalpel to her throat. Logan growled deep in his chest as he
watched Marie struggling against her bonds, trying to escape.

"St... stay there," Hines stuttered. Her hands shaking in fear as he
stared her down. The smell of Marie's blood filled the air as the
scalpel nicked her delicate flesh.

Logan roared and Marie struck as the woman's shaking hand came into
range of her mouth. Hines screamed in pain as her thumb was viciously
bitten. She dropped the scalpel, and was trying to pry Marie's jaw
apart when Logan attacked, driving his claws through her yielding
flesh, literally ripping her apart.

Leaving the bloody heap, he turned to Marie and slashed her bonds
with his claws before resheathing them. She hugged him around the
waist from her position on the bed pressing her face to his chest.
Only the bloody hospital gown he still wore protected him from her
skin, but neither of them noticed. Her breathing turned erratic as
she tried and failed to stifle the sobs bursting from her.

"I... They wanted... Oh, Logan..." she forced out between hitching
breaths.

He stroked her silky hair and tried to calm her as he focused the
majority of his energy on just staying upright. His vision had
blurred to the point where it was easier just to keep his eyes
closed. Soon, he was forced to lean on Marie for support.

-----

When she felt Logan's weight shift and he started to lean on her, she
remembered how he'd looked when he was wheeled into the room. They'd
drugged him, and even now his healing factor was having a hard time
keeping up. She slowly pulled away to assess his condition, and he
swayed, clutching the side of the bed to keep falling.

"We have to get out of here," she said.

He nodded, deliberately slow, and Marie could see that if he was
going to walk out of here, he needed to rest now. After encouraging
Logan to sit on her bed, she started searching the supply cabinets
for anything of use.  Most importantly, they needed clothes. She had
been spattered with blood during the fight, but Logan was coated with
gore.

Her search uncovered useless items like gauze, syringes, medications
with complex names, and surgical instruments.  She was beginning to
give up hope when she found a box of latex gloves, and even smiled
when she found the surgical scrubs.

Throwing off her flimsy gown, she pulled on the green scrubs, rolling
the pants up four times so she would be able to walk without
tripping.  The latex gloves and long-sleeved lab coat completed her
ensemble, covering her skin completely, except for her feet and face.

Now that she was somewhat covered, she turned her attentions to
Logan.  She peeled the soaked gown from his body and using the sheet
from the gurney, tried to wipe as much of the sticky blood away as
she could.  Logan just sat, eyes closed, allowing her to do what she
needed, shivering a little as she rubbed.

Once he was dressed, she urged him to stand, and guided him to the
door.  His wobbly legs barely supported his weight and he leaned
heavily on her, the metal in his bones weighing them both down.

There was no way they would escape unless they could avoid the guards
and find their way out, and there was only one way they could do
that.  Closing her eyes, she reached into her mind and touched
Derek's thoughts.  Pushing past his deep-seated hatred, she pulled
out all the information he had about the facility.

The knowledge shocked her.  Project X hadn't stopped when Logan
escaped.  They had captured new mutants, torturing them and
controlling them, all in the name of science and national defense.
It was a joint operation between the U.S. and Canadian governments.
The only reason the Alkali Lake base had been abandoned was because
it had become too small for their needs.  With this underground base
in the Utah west desert, they were able to accomplish so much more.

She couldn't allow it to continue.  With Derek's memories, not only
did she now have a map of the underground complex and knowledge of
the guards' movements, she knew where the munitions room was.  It
wasn't on the way to the exit, but with Derek's security codes, it
was only a slight detour.

They came across a few guards and facility scientists on their way,
but Marie was more than capable of dealing with them.  She'd been
trained to be an X-Man by the best:  Logan.

When they'd finally reached the surface, the alarm had still not been
sounded, but Marie knew their luck wouldn't hold for long.  Not only
that, but they only had about 15 minutes by her calculations to get
out of the blast zone.

Logan was breathing heavily and stumbling every few steps by now, but
somehow he kept his footing.  She half-pulled, half-dragged him
behind her as she ran.

Sooner than she'd expected, the ground shook beneath her, throwing
them to the ground as she heard a series of muffled explosions.
Looking back, she saw the dirt and rocks burst up like a geyser from
the entrance to the compound.  As the debris sprinkled to the ground
all around her, she pulled herself up out of the patch of sagebrush
she'd fallen into and looked at Logan.  He was lying unmoving on the
ground.

"Logan!"

Marie frantically turned him over.  Clutching his pale face with her
gloved hands, she leaned down, her cheek no more than an inch from
his lips.  She waited an eternity until she felt his breath on her
skin.  He was alive, breathing; he'd just passed out.

The relief that washed through her at that realization started to
fade almost instantly as she took in their surroundings.  Even though
they were obviously in a desert, it was a rocky, brown, cool desert.
The sun was already dipping to the horizon, and from the nip in the
air, she could tell it would be colder still after dark.

Looking around, there were no rocky outcroppings, no caves, no
protection from the elements of any kind, just miles and miles of
endless sagebrush and brown undergrowth.  Still, she tried to drag
Logan, to get them to a road and safety, but as a dead weight, he was
immovable.

Eventually, she gave up, snuggling down beside him instead in an
effort to conserve their body heat and survive the night.

-----

She hadn't been able to fall asleep, and then she hadn't wanted to
fall asleep.  The cool ground and the tingling breeze had sucked
every ounce of heat out of her, causing her to shiver violently.
Sometime during the past half-hour, her body had calmed, and that
worried her more than the shivering had.  The cold was now a part of
her, and she could feel the drowsiness fogging her mind, the promise
of sleep almost irresistible.  She knew she was going to die.  Logan
was still shivering beside her, and she was glad, hoping that he'd
survive the night and be able to find shelter tomorrow.

As she was thinking this, she heard the distinct sound of boots
crunching on the rocky ground approaching from the remains of the
underground facility.

Disclaimers, etc in part one.

*****

Marie sluggishly shifted her numb arms so they were underneath her
body, ready to push up and attack if those people got too close.  As
it turned out, her preparations weren't necessary.

"They're close, Scott.  I can sense them," a familiar voice said.
Jean's voice.

"Rogue!...  Logan!"  That was Scott, calling out to them.

"Mmmm, hhere," Marie called weakly.  It came out little louder than a
whisper, but from the shuffling sounds of boots running over loose
soil and the approaching voices, she knew they had heard her.

She heard a gasp, and then she felt gentle hands rolling her onto her
back.  Cracking her eyes open, she saw Jean's worried face
illuminated in the moonlight.

"What happened?"

"Lo-gnn, druuggd," she slurred.  She felt like her brain was floating
in molasses.  Everything was so slow, so far removed.

She watched Jean move to kneel between her and Logan, so she could
check his shivering body as well.

"Rogue, this is important.  Are you cold?"

That seemed like a stupid question.  However, when she thought about
it, she realized that although she had been cold, freezing in fact,
now that bitter pain was gone, replaced by a mildly unpleasant heat.

"Nno... tirrrd."

"Rogue, stay awake," Jean demanded, fear entering her voice.  "Scott,
grab Logan.  'Ro, help me with Rogue.  We've got to get them back to
the jet now."

Marie floated in and out of consciousness.  She watched the scenes
take place before her like a video tape being fast-forwarded and
stopped at random spots with white static in between.

A grunt. "How can he even walk with all this extra weight?  The metal
must add about a hundred pounds."

"It's distributed over his skeleton, and he's had almost twenty years
to get used to it.  Scott, have you got him?"

Another grunt.  "Yeah."

<i>Fast forward...</i>

Someone was shaking her.

"Rogue, open your eyes.  Come on," Jean ordered.

When Marie complied, she saw the desert illuminated by flames.  The
complex was burning.  She'd done it.  She'd sent those monsters
straight to hell.  They'd never hurt another mutant again.  Logan
could finally put his past behind him.  As they skirted the flames,
she could see the Blackbird come into view.

<i>Fast forward...</i>

A vile odor with a tinge of ammonia assaulted her, forcing her eyes
to pop open.  Jean was holding a small vial up to her face, running
it back and forth in front of her nose.  The roar of jet engines
filled the small space, and she realized she was in the Blackbird's
small medical unit.

"Rogue, I know you're tired, but you need to stay awake."

"Lo-gnn?" she asked.

"He's still unconscious.  I won't know until I can run some tests,
but he'll probably be ok.  It's you who has me worried."

"Mmm, fine."

"No you're not... Rogue?... Rogue?"

<i>Fast forward...</i>

She could hear the engines shutting down, but she was no longer in
the plane.  She was being carried and then, gently laid on a
stretcher.

"Henry, thank God.  Oxygen, CO-2 mix.  Warm saline I.V."

"Epinephrine?"

"Yes."

Marie felt a prick in her arm and then an almost painful warmth
spread through her veins.  The hands left her body and she
heard, "Logan?"

"Same treatment," Jean responded.  "I'm taking her down."

"I'll follow shortly."

<i>Fast forward...</i>

"I'm sorry.  I'm so sorry.  If I'd just been paying attention..."
Jubilee paused for a moment to calm herself.  "Rogue?  Can you hear
me?  I just wanted you to know that Remy and I, we didn't... I mean,
if we'd known what was happening...  As soon as Jean said you hadn't
called for a few days, well we knew something was wrong.  The
professor was in Cerebro almost non-stop for a week before he found
you, something about not being able to detect people underground, in
caves, that sort of thing.  If only Remy hadn't bumped that phone...
We're just so sorry."

"Jubilation Lee," a deep, husky voice called.  Hank's voice.  "This
area is restricted until the patients are sufficiently recovered."

"Yeah, I just had to tell 'er somethin', Hankmeister.  I'm gone, now."

<i>Fast forward...</i>

A warm hand was caressing her cheek ever so softly, the leather so
smooth on her skin.  She didn't want to wake up.  She wanted to stay
in the comforting darkness she had finally found, but the stroking
brought her slowly back to wakefulness.  Blinking her eyes open,
Marie focused on the man standing above her.

"Hey, darlin'.  How're you feelin'?"  Logan was smiling down at her,
looking hale and healthy.

"Mmm, better."

"Good.  You had us worried for a while."

"How're you?"  She couldn't help the worry from creeping into her
voice.

"Fine, darlin'.  Good as new."

"I...  I..." the emotions she'd held back for so long came rushing
out in unstoppable, choking sobs.

"Hey... Hey there..." Logan said, pulling her shaking body up into a
sitting position so he could wrap his arms around her.  She buried
her face in his chest and cried all the harder.  "It's ok," he said
trying to comfort her.  "We're both ok."

Through wracking sobs she let everything out, telling him all her
worries and fears those days he'd been gone, and how afraid she'd
been for him.  She told him about her parents and Sabretooth and the
police station.  She told him about John and Derek and what Project X
had almost forced her to do to him.  She didn't keep anything back,
and when she was done, she held onto him tightly and cried until her
tears ran dry.

"Better, darlin'?"

"Yeah," Marie replied, pulling away to wipe at her eyes.

"Good.  I'm just gonna go kill Remy and Jubes.  I'll be back in a
bit."

Tightening her grip around his waist, she pulled him back to her
body.  "They didn't know, Logan.  It's not their fault."

"It is their fault.  If they hadn't been fooling around, you wouldn't
have had to go through most of that."

"It was an accident, Logan.  They didn't mean it.  It's ok."

"It's *not* ok," he growled.

"Then it'll be ok," Marie countered.  Then, after a moment's
pause, "Logan, can we do something?  I mean, in a few days, can we go
somewhere?"

"Anywhere."

-----

"I don't like this, Marie."

"I know.  If it helps, I don't like being here either."

"We're too exposed."

"Professor Xavier said that the charges were dropped.  We're not
wanted anymore."

"Yeah, but still, to come back here so soon."

Marie opened the passenger-side door and stepped into the chilly
air.  It had rained the day before, and the grassy field was still
damp and shining in the sunlight.

"This is something I have to do, Logan.  Will you come with me?"

Logan exited the Jeep in response, stepping beside her and placing a
comforting hand around her waist.  "Where are they?"

"Somewhere over here," Marie said, beginning to walk.

After searching for a few minutes, she finally found them.  In Loving
Memory:  George Michael Trent and Rachel Anna Trent.

Kneeling down on the wet grass before the graves, she said, "Hi,
Momma.  Hi, Daddy.  I'm sorry I didn't come sooner, and I'm sorry I
left four years ago without telling you.  I was just so afraid, and I
didn't want to risk hurting you.  I came because I wanted you to know
that I'm ok now.  You don't have to worry about me anymore."

Reaching up, she grabbed Logan's free hand.  "This is Logan."

She paused like she was waiting for something.  Finally, he
said, "Uh, hi."

"Logan's my husband.  He's a good man.  I think you'd like him
Momma.  I love him so much, and yes, Daddy, he loves me just as
much.  We're good together, and I so wanted you to meet him.  We
missed you at the wedding, but maybe you were there, huh?  Maybe you
could see it?  I hope so.

"I just wanted to come and see you, and say, 'Thank you.'  I hope if
I'm ever a parent that I can be half as good to my kids as you were
to me.  Your love and support meant everything to me...  I just
wanted you to know."

Marie kneeled in silence for a few minutes and then slowly rose to
her feet.

"Ready, darlin'?" Logan asked, reaching out a hand.

In the past few weeks, they had both lost all connections to their
past.  Now, they only had the unknown future stretching out before
them.  Taking his hand, she knew that they would face that future
together, for better and for worse.

*****

Next:  For Richer, For Poorer.

Title: The Nature of Everything
Author: Victoria P. [victoria_p@...]
Summary: Logan thinks about Rogue as he watches her sleep.
Rating: PG - one use of the F word
Disclaimer: All X-Men characters belong to Marvel and Fox; this piece of
fan-written fiction intends no infringement on any copyrights.
Archive: List archives, http://musesfool.freehosting.net, anyone who's
already got my stuff. If you don't and you want it, just ask.
Feedback: All things tend toward feedback. I wish!
Notes: Thanks to Dot, Meg, Jen, and Pete. I have a very, very
rudimentary understanding of physics, despite my college physics
professor wanting me to major in it. But I'm pretty sure I got the
Second Law of Thermodynamics right.

<  > indicates thoughts

The Nature of Everything

Logan sat on the glider, enjoying the sensation of Marie curled up next
to him as she slept. He wrapped an arm around her and pressed his lips
against her hair, inhaling her scent. They didn't get many moments like
this.

Somewhere over by the grill, Hank was droning on about something.
Physics. Logan listened with half an ear as the big blue doctor said,
"The Second Law of Thermodynamics is simply this: all things tend toward
chaos. Entropy is the natural end state of all things. For example, in a
closed system, as potential energy is transformed into heat..."

Logan tuned him out, preferring instead to turn his attention to the
woman in his arms and revel in the moment. He was amazed at how
beautiful Marie was. He supposed he must have noticed at some point over
the course of the last five years, but recently, it had been impressed
on him again. He'd watched proudly as she graduated from college and
caught his breath at the sight of her cradling Jean and Scott's baby in
her arms.

He spent so much time away because he couldn't face her -- or her
feelings for him. He knew how she felt -- he wasn't stupid, despite what
Scooter claimed. And at first, it had just been weird. He wasn't used to
being the object of adoration by a teenage girl, and he found it kind of
embarrassing. Okay, it was kind of a turn-on, too, though he would admit
that to no one but himself. But he knew he wasn't worthy of the looks
she gave him; he wanted to run and hide from the warmth and promise that
sparkled in her eyes.

He gave a very good impression of being oblivious. He decided it was the
best, if not the most honorable, way to go. So, they had settled into a
routine -- he was her best friend, her sparring partner, and her
drinking buddy. In some ways, he was grateful when she turned
twenty-one, because it meant she could go out drinking with her friends,
instead of sitting up in his room, getting polluted on beer and bourbon.
He'd never taken advantage of her, but he knew he could have. She would
have let him -- she practically begged him one night, crying that with
her untouchable skin, no man would want her, so would he please make
love to her so she didn't die a virgin -- but he had put her in his bed
and rode off on his motorcycle. He couldn't have lived with himself if
he gave in to that temptation, no matter how much he wanted to.

He'd been with a lot of women, but he couldn't bear facing the
disappointment he knew he'd see in her eyes after they slept together.
It would be good -- first off, it would be sex. How could it not be
good? And secondly, it would be Marie. Sex with Marie would be
mind-blowing, at the least.

But it wouldn't be right. He'd somehow manage to screw it up, and then
he'd run at the first sign of trouble. He always had. He always would.
It was nice to dream about his one true love, the woman who would keep
his heart safe and happy for the rest of his unnaturally long life; it
was another thing entirely to expect that from a twenty-two-year-old
who'd never completely gotten over her adolescent crush on him.

So, there would be no magic moment for them, no revelatory kiss as the
music swelled and the credits rolled.

He continued to flirt with and leer at Jean, who knew it meant nothing.
He pretended to ignore the way Marie looked at him, as though he were
the only thing that gave her life meaning. He found comfort in the arms
of other women when he traveled, women who always had dark auburn hair
and large, brown eyes. He avoided thinking about how he always made them
wear gloves. And he tried to deny the pain in Marie's eyes on the rare
occasions he came home smelling like one of those women. He told himself
it was better to hurt her this way and keep their friendship, than to
ruin the friendship by letting sex enter into the equation.

Ororo wandered over and dropped to the grass in front of him, smiling.
"The children wore her out," the weather goddess observed, nodding
toward Marie. "She will make a wonderful mother someday." She pitched
her voice low, in order not to wake the younger woman, but Logan had no
problem hearing her.

Children. He'd never even thought of the possibility. He was sure she
had. His chest tightened. He was willing to bet she'd given up hope that
it would ever happen, just as she had given up hope that she'd find a
man who loved her and wasn't afraid of her skin. If she only knew his
real feelings -- but he'd given up hope as well, hope that he could be
what she needed.

He couldn't bear the thought of her having another man's children, but
he knew that it would happen for her someday. It had to. Women like
Marie were too wonderful, too precious to be alone forever. He wondered
what he'd do when the time came. He might have to leave the mansion for
good.

"Logan?"

"Yeah," he said, when he realized he'd let the silence stretch too long.

"She loves you, you know," Ororo said.

He grunted. "I know."

"And you love her as well. I do not see the problem."

He sighed. <My track record with relationships is lousy. My friendship
with Marie is the longest relationship I can ever remember having and
it's worth too much to screw it up with sex.> "'All things tend toward
chaos,'" he quoted. At her puzzled look, he explained, "I'll just fuck
it up."

"And that is a reason not to try?" she prodded.

Logan snorted. Marie stirred and he controlled himself. "She trusts me."
He looked down at the girl cradled against his chest. "I don't want to
lose this when she realizes I'm not -- I can't be -- what she thinks. I
don't want her to end up hating me." <Not even mind-blowing sex is worth
that.>

Storm rose fluidly and pressed a kiss to his forehead. "I will tell you
a little secret, Logan. Things are born, they mature, they hit a peak,
and then the inevitable downhill slide begins. Yes, it is the nature of
everything. You just have to learn to ride the wave while it lasts."

"What?"

"Disorder may win out in the end, but that does not mean you cannot have
happiness along the way."  With that parting shot, she walked away.

As much as he wanted to believe it, believe her, he knew himself. He
would only cause Marie more pain and he was resolved not to do that. He
sighed again, and returned to contemplating the beautiful woman sleeping
at his side. She would get over him and move on -- that was the nature
of things. And he -- well, he would survive. Alone. That was the nature
of the Wolverine.

End

***

victoria

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