Disclaimer: I don't own any of the rights to anything Marvel. I actually don't own the rights to anything, full stop, but we shall over look that for the time being, as it really has nothing to do with this.
Sidenote: This is a sequel to my story 'Unbreakable', although you don't have to read it to understand this one, it might help. I also suggest that if you're going to read it, I would do so before reading this one as it might sort of...spoil it for it, I suppose. Oh and a bit of a warning, if you're not good with candid talks about death, I suggest that you don't read this, as there's quite a bit of it in here.I've also added lyrics to it, like I did in another one of my stories, I do hope that doesn't bother anyone.Anyway, I hope you all enjoy reading it and that I did the first one justice. On with the story!
Broken
Death is a funny thing; sometimes you don't realize that you like someone until they're gone, or, in my case, love someone. But I didn't lose someone, not right then. However, there was a man that I loved, his name was Logan and he did everything he could to protect me and take care of me. He would go out of his way to make me happy and to see me smile. He knew me better than anyone else and gave up something that he wanted so that I wouldn't risk the possibility of getting hurt. I loved him, I wanted him to love me and yet he was scared that he would hurt me like the other woman in his past. It wasn't until I lay dying in his arms that he realized that perhaps taking the jump and getting hurt in the fall is worth the experience of the jump alone, but at that time, it was too late; the gun shot wound in my stomach had gone straight through, causing me to lose too much blood. With the ambulance only one minute away, it sirens filling the air with a loud, urgent sound, I died I died, but he clung to my cold, lifeless body, rocking me back and forth, switching between muttering how sorry he was for letting me get hurt and cursing me for leaving him. Even as the hauled me away in the ambulance, the unexpected shock of my untimely death griping at him, he lit up a cigar and calmly drove to the hospital where the pronounced me dead. Co-workers and friends of ours, Scott and Jean, came down to make sure that he was okay, and then they went home and, along with Professor Xavier, planned my funeral. I apologize, my name is Chloe, and I was a mutant who lived and worked in a school just for them. I was twenty-two and that summer I was supposed to be going to Canada with Logan. Unfortunately, my plans were cut short as my father, who had been in prison for thirteen years of my life for killing a fourteen year old mutant boy, shot me and point blank range for also being a mutant, and that's how I died. It hurt, my word did it hurt, but Logan being there, holding me, telling me that I was going to be okay, it didn't stop the pain, it did, however, make me feel just a little bit better. My life was over, done with and it wasn't until then that Logan knew that he loved me but would never be able to tell me, and that ate him alive.
"Hey Logan, we're drivin' to the funeral home, do you wanna' right with us?" Rogue called through Logan's door.
"No," he called back.
Admittedly, I didn't get along quite so well with Rogue while I was alive, but now I see that she never meant any harm. The problem with our relationship was that we both wanted to be the center of Logan's attention. I had been when I had first met him when I was fifteen and then he left the bar that we both worked in, he as a cage fighter and I as a bartender, taking Rogue with him as they both wound up at Xavier's. After that, there were six years where Rogue was everything that brought him home and kept him waking up every day. Then the night before she got married, I met Logan again and it was as though I was his new pet since she belonged to Bobby. I was back to being his center, his everything, and she was jealous because she thought that I had stolen him from her, when he was thinking that Bobby was stealing her from him. All a vicious cycle really. Anyway, the point is that it doesn't matter who stole who from whom, I was grateful that she was taking care of him for me, as much as he was letting her, anyway, he needed it.
"Well, do you want me to ride with you?" she asked.
"No, I'm fine kid, go on," he said, suppressing a growl as he knew she meant well.
It had taken two days to plan my funeral, during those two days Logan had barely slept, and when he had, it wasn't long before he would have a nightmare and wake up. But the weren't his usual nightmares of being cut open and being injected with a melted metal called adamantium just to be used as some type of weapon. It wasn't about the life that he had spent nearly twenty-two years tying to remember. Instead, he was having nightmares of me dying in his arms, but both nights he had had the dreams, in them I was blaming him for letting me die. I didn't blame him and wished that there had been a way for me to tell him.
"Are you sure?" Rogue asked, feeling bad knowing that he was grieving but wouldn't let anyone see it.
"Yeah, I'm goin' on my own," he said, trying again, not to growl.
"Alright, we'll just see you there, then," she said and then left.
Logan went to his bathroom and took a swig of the bottle of Jack Daniels he had bought, along with three others, the day before. He had already gone through the other three and was working his way through the forth, having already gotten more than half way through. He sat the bottle down on the counter and placed both of his hands on the sides of the sink, trying to force himself to not pack his things, get in his car and drive away from there as fast as he could, as far as he could. He had never been to a funeral, not one that he could remember, anyway. When they had thought that Jean was dead after she was swept away in the floods when the dam broke in Alkali Lake, he had attended the memorial service on just two bottles of Jack, but there, with the body, he wasn't sure that he could do it. He had seen a lot of things, done a lot, but witnessing the woman he loved suffering and dying had haunted him worse than anything in his life.
He looked up and studied himself in the mirror. He didn't see what I had once seen; a man of great strength, talent and a certain animalistic appeal that would either push you from him, or draw you closer. A man whom in my life time, however short of one it might have been, I had come to depend on as my sole love interest. I loved him but it was so much more than a romantic relationship; he was my best friend, my playmate, my partner in crime, my TV buddy. I loved Scott but I couldn't sit through his boring dramas that he insisted on watching; Logan watched The Three Stooges movies with me. He had let me curl up next to him during the Halloween season when the school had a 'Fright Night Movie Fest' and we watched the original version of 'The House on Haunted Hill'. Admittedly, the special effects were no longer that great, I was still scared and he had let me squeeze his hand all too tightly and burry my face into his chest when someone would be killed, never complaining, only laughing. He didn't see a man with accomplished skills, with perfect grace, the way that I had when I had first seen him fight. He did it with such beauty. I know you're probably wondering how someone could fight with grave and beauty, but when I had had the pleasure of watching him every day, every week for three months; I was struck by how he seemed to look as though he were dancing. He looked as though he were in a ballet, moving fluidly and naturally to win every match. He certainly didn't see the soft, vulnerable Logan that I had seen the night that I had kissed him or the night that I first heard him tell me that he loved me. That Logan was gone; he had to let Wolverine take over or he was going to lose it, he was going to crack. As he stood there, gripping the side of the sink with so much strength that it threatened to rip from the wall; he didn't see anything but pure rage. Sure, he was in pain, but he wouldn't have been that way had my father not killed me and so he was enraged by the thought of him. Logan wanted to scream, yell, to go running out into the streets cutting open any man who even resembled my father, and yet he couldn't. He was bound by a promise that I had made him make to me to not go after him. Stupid promise, really, it probably would have been the only way for him to have gotten some of his emotions out, but I wanted my father to go to prison, once again, not Logan. I know that Logan would have gladly traded years of his life behind bars to see that man gutted with his head mounted on a wall as a trophy and a reminder as to not mess with the people in his life. However, it was more than just not wanting him to go to jail; I knew that if he did then he would have been found out about being a mutant. You see, Logan ages well; the Professor had at one point told me that the estimation of his age was near one hundred years, however, he only looked as though he were in his thirties, late, maybe even early forties, but still good for someone more than twice his age. If he had gotten time in prison for murder, he would have barely aged by the time he was through serving his sentence and therefore would have outed himself. Mutants are looked down on, frowned upon, and even spit upon, not to mention hated. Those who have lived our lives know this and need not hear my explanation. But, for those of you who don't know; I made Logan promise me to not hunt my father down and kill him because in the end, I would much rather my father get away with murder than to have my Wolverine prodded and picked over by the Government, who would, not doubt, want to use him for themselves. He was created to be a human weapon, an animal, but he wasn't. He was my kind, gentle, strong and caring Logan and there was no way that they were going to try and turn him into something he wasn't. No, when Logan looked into the mirror and stared into his own eyes, all he could see was a man doing his best not to break down and cry.
I woke up today I hate myself for losing you
Woke up wide awake
In an empty bed
Staring at an empty room
I have myself to blame
For the state I'm in today
And now dying
Doesn't seem so cruel
And oh, I don't know what to say
And I don't know anyway
Anymore
I'm seeing it all so clear
I hate myself for losing you
What do you do when you look in the mirror
And staring at you is why she's not here?
The ride to the funeral home was long and hard for everyone. Jean, Scott and Ororo all drove school busses to bring in most of the students. The Professor rode with Bobby and Rogue, and Logan drove himself. No one dared ask him to drive the other bus, and so some of the students volunteered to stay at the school on their own and watch after some of the younger students that the Professor had suggested stay at home.
The chapel was full of thick tension, no one knowing what Logan would do, and trying to stay clear of him, just in case. He sat in the front, keeping his eyes on me inside of my coffin as Xavier delivered a beautiful eulogy. He spoke about how much he had seen me grow since I had arrived, about how I had taken control of my life and was never embarrassed to ask about something that I was curious about, always continuing to learn. He spoke such wonderful things that nearly everyone was crying by the time he was done. Once he was through, they allowed everyone to pass by and view me. I always found that bit slightly odd; everyone was lining up to see the empty shell that I had left behind, knowing that it was no longer me lying there, because I was gone. Logan was the last to go through and Scott waited by only a few feet away, in case that he needed him. Scott was the only one who had understood him, the only person to look him in the eye when they spoke. Logan and Scott had never gotten along, for whatever reason, but right then, Scott was the closest thing to understanding him and it didn't matter how badly they fought and argued; Scott stood up there beside him because he knew that that was what he had needed.
Everyone watched Logan as he stood above my lifeless body, waiting to see what he would do. He ran his hand down my cold, dead cheek, skimming my bottom lip with the pad of his thumb, cupping my face in his palm. He then pent down and kissed my forehead, stroking my curly hair with his hand.
"I love you darlin'," he whispered so quietly, with his lips still pressed to the top of my head, that only those who knew what was going on inside his head could have known what he was saying. "You'll always be my girl," He placed another kiss on my cheek, rose up and then closed the lip to my coffin.
He, Scott, Bobby and another one of their former students named Peter, or Colosious, who had come back for the funeral, were the pallbearers, picked up my casket, and carried it to the hearse. Everyone then drove to the cemetery, where no one spoke; they only buried me. After everyone had placed a flower on my grave, they left, except for Logan.
"Hey kid," he started. "Look, I'm not really good at this sort of thing, but I'm sorry. You shouldn't be there. I should have been watching you, takin' care of you; I didn't listen to any of my instincts and screwed up…again. I was stupid, I'm used to putting my own life on the line but this time it wasn't just me…it was you. I should have been paying attention, I should have…I should have done something. Why were you talkin' to him? Why didn't you tell at me? Why did you just stand there and let him do that to you? Why did you let him take you away from me?" he yelled, letting out a string of swear words before continuing. "He took you away from me the first time. If you hadn't made me take you to Washington than nothing would have happened that night and I would have got to keep you, why couldn't I keep you? I know that I told you that I didn't want to…be with you because I didn't want to hurt you, but the truth is, kid, I was afraid that you would start to see me the way that I do and that you wouldn't want me anymore. When I looked at you I knew that you didn't see me the way that I do, you thought I was better than what I am, you gave me more love than I deserved and I let you die. Why couldn't you have just hated me, why did you have to forgive me? That was your problem Chloe; you forgave people too easily. You let people hurt you and then you just forgave them, why did you do that?" he said, running his hand through his hair and letting out a heavy sigh that threatened to be a growl. "I hope you're alright now, you deserve to be okay, even if it's killin' me, you deserve it. Do you know how much I miss you already? You've been gone for two days and already I can't stand it. If after two days I'm goin' crazy without you, how am I supposed to keep goin' on? I've gotta' go kid, I know you're not in that bottle of Jack I got in the car, but I don't guess it'll hurt to check. I'm sorry darlin', I wish I could have done more, but I just wasn't fast enough. Get some rest, I'll be back to see you later," he said and then walked to his car. He pulled the bottle of whiskey from the back seat and proceeded to drink the rest by the time he had driven the twenty or so minutes back to the school, but once he was there, he couldn't go in.
He swore. 'She's not in there, she's never gonna' be in there 'cause she's gone for good,' he thought. 'She ain't ever comin' back, so get used to it,'
But he couldn't. He turned his car around and drove away. He went to the bar that was nearly half an hour away from the mansion but left as he remembered bringing me there and the argument that we had once had in the parking lot. After driving around for almost an hour he finally cursed himself, pulled over at a Liquor store and just bought him some more whiskey.
"Oh wow, you must be having a party or something," the female cashier said as he put the bottles up onto the counter. She was young, only in her early twenties. She had light brown hair and big brown eyes. My big brown eyes; the ones that he had loved staring into.
"No," he nearly growled, pulling out his wallet to pay for the three bottles he was buying. He figured that since the funeral was over with, he wouldn't need as much to keep him going.
"Oh, this is all for you, how do you drink this stuff, it makes me sick,"
"Doesn't bother me," he said, hording up his bag in his arms, not bothering to wait for his change and then heading for the door.
"Hey Chloe, are you coming to my party tonight?" a young man asked.
Logan turned to see him speaking on a cell phone and felt the sudden urge to run his claws through him for saying my name. He didn't, however, instead he went back to his car and finally drove to the school.
Logan was relearning a hard lesson that he had forgotten since having Jean back; when you lose someone you love, you see them everywhere. Mine wasn't an all too common name, but as it had been for the six years we went without seeing each other, he heard every mention of my name from everyone who said it. However, the mention of my name no longer brought up thoughts of guilt and regret as much as it brought up pain. The sound of the same name that had once brought comfort to his broken soul felt sharp and painful to his ears to hear since I was gone, and he sought salvation from the anger in a bottle of whiskey and a cigar as he sat out on his terrace as the sun began to set.
"Hey, mind if I sit down?" Rogue asked, appearing at his side.
"Yeah, go on," he said, pulling a chair closer to his. She sat down and pulled her sweater closer to her.
The early February weather was still near freezing cold in New York. It was snowing, very lightly, but enough to blow back in the wind to duck their outstretched feet with it. The blush winter lighting case itself over the back grounds of the school' property, where Logan had a clear view of the woods, which hid their pond. As the sun was setting, the moon began to shine brighter, making everything below look colder than it was.
They both sat quietly for a minute before Rogue finally began to speak. "I'm sorry. I know that we didn't get along all that well, but I never wanted her to…I'm sorry,"
He took a puff of his cigar. "Don't worry about it kid, it's not your fault,"
"If you ever wanna' talk about her, I don't care, you can,"
He nodded his head. "I know," he said and then looked over at her. "It's cold, you better go in,"
"I'm fine,"
"You don't look fine," he said, noticing his slightly chattering teeth.
"Just let me sit out here for a while, I don't want to go back in right now,"
He took a sip from his bottle. "So how are we doin' then?"
He didn't say it, but she knew that he was talking about her and Bobby. "Fine," she said, wrapping her scarf around her tighter.
"So you worked out the whole New Year's Eve deal?" Rogue had kissed Logan on New Year's Eve instead of her husband Bobby. Partly because Logan was her friend and she didn't see anything wrong with it, but also in part because I was standing there and she wanted to make me jealous. It had worked. I tore up the stairs to my bedroom with Logan right behind me.
"Yeah, he knows that I didn't mean it like that, I just think that some times he forgets that we're different,"
"Good," he said with another sip of his whiskey.
There was another long silence as Rogue pulled her knees up to her chest and hugged them. She rested her head on them and looked over at Logan. "Were you in love with her?"
He fought back to urge to make her leave. He knew it was an innocent question, she didn't know it was going to hurt him, but the truth was; it did hurt him, the question nearly killed him.
He ground his teeth down on his cigar, trying to keep his emotions under control. "Yeah, I was," he said, letting out a long breath into the cold air, making it hard to tell the difference between it and his cigar smoke.
"Was she in love with you?"
Logan loved Marie, she knew it, everyone knew it, but right then he was doing all he could to keep calm and from growling at her. "Yeah, I think so,"
"Why didn't the two of you ever do anything about it, then?"
"Because I'm stupid,"
"You're not stupid Logan, you've done some stupid things but that doesn't mean that you are," she said.
He looked over at her and nodded his head. "Come here, kid," he said, pulling her to him from her chair and kissing her on top of the head. "You shouldn't have to take care of me; I'm an old man,"
"Well I reckon I don't do anything I don't want to," she said. "And besides, you've taken care of me for long enough, I think it's your turn for a while,"
Logan had lost me but he still had Rogue and that's what he had to focus on.
"So, do we got anything to eat in this place?" he asked.
"Yeah, I think dinner was almost done when I came up here,"
"We better go then," he said, but continued to hold her to him.
Marie thought about how Logan was the only person, aside from Bobby, to not care about touching her skin. He had even touched her purposefully on occasion to help save her life. He had taken care of her during a time in her life when it was needed most and she hated watching him try to drown himself in a bottle that would do nothing to him to help him deal with my death.
"You might want to use some mouth wash; I'm not sure how much the Professor would want you smellin' like whiskey at the dinner table,"
"Chuck can get over it," he said, finally letting out a small growl. Rogue didn't move, she knew that it wasn't directed at her and she had gotten used to the various growls and noises that he often made, especially when irritated. "You know what; I'm not hungry, why don't you go eat and we can talk later,"
"Are you sure?" she asked, looking up at him.
"Yeah, I'm gonna' sit out here for a little while,"
"Alright, I'll see you later," she said, standing and walking to the door that led back into his room. "Hey Logan?"
"Yeah?" he asked, not minding to turn around and look at her.
"If you need to talk you know you can come get me,"
"I know. Thanks kid,"
"Logan,"
"Yeah Marie?"
"I love you,"
"I know, you too," he said then tipped back his bottle and drank the last of the whiskey as she left, closing his bedroom door as quietly as she could.
He contemplated getting up and getting a new bottle, but he couldn't force himself from his seat. He sat there smoking on the small bit of cigar that was left, as the last of the sun sank smoothly behind the large thicket of trees just out beyond his balcony. He wanted to get me off his mind, but he saw me everywhere he looked. I was there out on the terrace with him, sitting right beside him. I was inside his bedroom, begging him to let me try on his cowboy boots like I used to. I was out in the yard below him. He could see me standing in front of the snowman that I had made earlier that week. I had tried to give him the winged hair that Logan had, but the snow hadn't worked with me and he had just ended up looking like I didn't know how to make a snowball. His eyes were, unfortunately, made from very mismatched rocks, because I hadn't been able to find but the two of them hidden under all of the snow. His nose had been made from a knob of a stick that I had broken into little bits to make a smile. He was a goofy looking guy, but at least he was upbeat about it. Logan saw me down there, smiling at him and he could help but cry, knowing that he would never be able to see me smile for real ever again.
I hope you're doing fine out there without me So how could I have been so blind for all these years? And everything I had in this world I can't take another day without you Sorry I can't always find the words to say And everything I had in this world As the days grow long I see Sorry I can't always find the words to say And everything I had in this world
'Cause I'm not doing so good without you
The things I thought you'd never know about me
Were the things I guess you always understood
Guess I only see the truth through all this fear,
And living without you…
And all that I'll ever be
It could all fall down around me.
Just as long as I have you,
Right here by me.
'Cause baby, I could never make it on my own
I've been waiting so long, just to hold you
And be back in your arms where I belong
But everything I've ever know gets swept away
Inside of your love…
And all that I'll ever be
It could all fall down around me.
Just as long as I have you,
Right here by me.
That time is standing still for me
When you're not here
Everything I've ever known gets swept away
Inside of your love
And all that I'll ever be
It could all fall down around me.
Just as long as I have you,
Right here by me.