Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Marvel. I'm sure they wouldn't like this particular story.
Author's Note: I got this idea while suffering from a mild case of insomnia, and it is *not* a happy fic. I repeat, it is *not* happy.
As long as she was unhappy, they were satisfied.
For the first few years they didn't even make her leave the room, but she was still frightened when she woke up on the floor by her desk, or wedged between the toilet bowl and the bathroom wall. Not understanding what made her body wander so late at night, she would crawl back to her bed and shiver for a while, then fall asleep. When she realized what was happening, she purchased a lock for her door that locked from the inside and hid the key on her highest closet shelf. Even then, she always fell asleep uneasily, and they were content with that. The newer ones, always--David, Erik, and even Logan had faded to a whisper in her head, newer and crueler personalities crowding into their spots and disturbing her rest, taking dominion over her when she was asleep and not constantly on guard.
In the fourth year, Logan came home, and things began to change.
They were uncommonly silent at first, letting her sleep through the night without walking--she should have been suspicious then. But she was too wrapped up in the fact that four years after they'd met, Logan's eyes followed her across the room, his most sincere smiles were for her alone, and his beautiful hazel eyes shone only for her. They took it remarkably slow and she loved the pace, loved being in the utter comfort and safety of his presence, and theorized that maybe this made them happy, too. Maybe they had given up and granted her peace.
So she took the lock off her door, which wasn't really necessary, because they made love for the first time in his room anyway. She fell asleep in his arms, deeply happy and comfortable, wrapped in a sheet though she was. The only warning she received--the only warning they offered--was waking up in her own bathtub four hours later. Mercifully she hadn't turned the water on, but she was shaken all the same. He was still asleep when she crept back to his side, for which she thanked every god man had ever named.
The next night they stayed in her room, and she vowed that she would stay awake, that she wouldn't let them intimidate her. But he was concerned, saying that she seemed so tired, and between his soft voice relating tales of his travels and his hands stroking her back . . . well, it wasn't any wonder that she fell asleep.
One warning was all she would get. They were immensely lucky for Logan's senses; he smelled the blood and woke up just minutes after the razor fell from her hands to the floor. Panicked, he yelled for Jean and waited anxiously outside the medical lab while her wrists were bound and Jean ran tests. Scott and Ororo cleaned up her bathroom without a word, feeling sick at all the stains and wondering why nothing had appeared out of the ordinary. Rogue wasn't depressed or suicidal; now that Logan was home and seemed inclined to stay here, she was the happiest they'd ever seen her.
Xavier waited until she awoke, wanting to hear what was going on rather than draw it from her mind. Briefly she explained her battles with the voices in her head, how it had become second nature to shut them out during the day but they seemed to have full run at night. He frowned, displeased that she hadn't said anything earlier and having only vague ideas of what to do. Her mutation was utterly unique, and he thought hard to come up with a solution to this problem.
Meanwhile Logan sat outside the door, straining to hear her breathing.
Finally Xavier searched her mind, and was appalled at the chaos within. He put her on probation from the team until they could find some sort of way to organize the personalities she carried within her. Meanwhile Jean gave her sleeping pills that knocked her out so completely, she hadn't the energy to sleepwalk. It took long months before her head had a semblance of order, but when it finally fell into place she discovered a remarkable thing. The extreme mental control necessary to hold all the voices at bay made it possible to control her mutation. It was a joyful event when she kissed Logan for the first time, really kissed him, with no cloth barrier between their lips, and a more private joy to finally be able to touch him elsewhere. It had surprised everyone that he had stayed with her, had taken care of her through the difficult process, and it surprised them even more when he spirited her off to Vegas and married her in a dingy chapel with three Elvises to witness.
She still took the sleeping pills, but her head was wonderfully clean, and her marriage thrived. Indeed, a few weeks after they were married she stood at the balcony, gazing at the stars and running her hands over her still-flat stomach in amazement. Logan's jaw dropped nearly to the floor when she told him, and then he laughed and swept her into his arms and kissed her for a good, long while. Their celebration lasted so long into the night that she forgot all about the pills.
Logan turned over and shivered, feeling a chill--Marie had left the window open again, and had probably stolen the covers as well. She'd had all the covers she needed from now on, though, he thought with a grin. He rolled over to nuzzle against her, but she wasn't there.
He didn't see her step off the ledge. He only heard a short, cut-off scream and a thud.
A roar of cold went through his body and he leapt to the window, climbed down by digging his claws into the stone wall and dropping some ten feet above the ground. When he reached her side, her legs were at an angle that looked horribly wrong and her eyes didn't see him lean over and cry her name frantically.
But I can heal her, he thought with relief. I've done it before. He gripped both her small, cold hands in his and covered her face with kisses, his mouth lingering on her brow for a long time.
They found him like that several minutes later. He wouldn't anyone come near her body until Jean knocked him out mentally. Then he slipped into an unnatural sleep, and refused to come out of it without her.
One corpse was buried several days after that, and another lay in the mansion's lab until Xavier took pity on him and let his mind go from his body as his wife's so often had, let him follow after her in death like he hadn't been able to in life.
Author's Note: I got this idea while suffering from a mild case of insomnia, and it is *not* a happy fic. I repeat, it is *not* happy.
As long as she was unhappy, they were satisfied.
For the first few years they didn't even make her leave the room, but she was still frightened when she woke up on the floor by her desk, or wedged between the toilet bowl and the bathroom wall. Not understanding what made her body wander so late at night, she would crawl back to her bed and shiver for a while, then fall asleep. When she realized what was happening, she purchased a lock for her door that locked from the inside and hid the key on her highest closet shelf. Even then, she always fell asleep uneasily, and they were content with that. The newer ones, always--David, Erik, and even Logan had faded to a whisper in her head, newer and crueler personalities crowding into their spots and disturbing her rest, taking dominion over her when she was asleep and not constantly on guard.
In the fourth year, Logan came home, and things began to change.
They were uncommonly silent at first, letting her sleep through the night without walking--she should have been suspicious then. But she was too wrapped up in the fact that four years after they'd met, Logan's eyes followed her across the room, his most sincere smiles were for her alone, and his beautiful hazel eyes shone only for her. They took it remarkably slow and she loved the pace, loved being in the utter comfort and safety of his presence, and theorized that maybe this made them happy, too. Maybe they had given up and granted her peace.
So she took the lock off her door, which wasn't really necessary, because they made love for the first time in his room anyway. She fell asleep in his arms, deeply happy and comfortable, wrapped in a sheet though she was. The only warning she received--the only warning they offered--was waking up in her own bathtub four hours later. Mercifully she hadn't turned the water on, but she was shaken all the same. He was still asleep when she crept back to his side, for which she thanked every god man had ever named.
The next night they stayed in her room, and she vowed that she would stay awake, that she wouldn't let them intimidate her. But he was concerned, saying that she seemed so tired, and between his soft voice relating tales of his travels and his hands stroking her back . . . well, it wasn't any wonder that she fell asleep.
One warning was all she would get. They were immensely lucky for Logan's senses; he smelled the blood and woke up just minutes after the razor fell from her hands to the floor. Panicked, he yelled for Jean and waited anxiously outside the medical lab while her wrists were bound and Jean ran tests. Scott and Ororo cleaned up her bathroom without a word, feeling sick at all the stains and wondering why nothing had appeared out of the ordinary. Rogue wasn't depressed or suicidal; now that Logan was home and seemed inclined to stay here, she was the happiest they'd ever seen her.
Xavier waited until she awoke, wanting to hear what was going on rather than draw it from her mind. Briefly she explained her battles with the voices in her head, how it had become second nature to shut them out during the day but they seemed to have full run at night. He frowned, displeased that she hadn't said anything earlier and having only vague ideas of what to do. Her mutation was utterly unique, and he thought hard to come up with a solution to this problem.
Meanwhile Logan sat outside the door, straining to hear her breathing.
Finally Xavier searched her mind, and was appalled at the chaos within. He put her on probation from the team until they could find some sort of way to organize the personalities she carried within her. Meanwhile Jean gave her sleeping pills that knocked her out so completely, she hadn't the energy to sleepwalk. It took long months before her head had a semblance of order, but when it finally fell into place she discovered a remarkable thing. The extreme mental control necessary to hold all the voices at bay made it possible to control her mutation. It was a joyful event when she kissed Logan for the first time, really kissed him, with no cloth barrier between their lips, and a more private joy to finally be able to touch him elsewhere. It had surprised everyone that he had stayed with her, had taken care of her through the difficult process, and it surprised them even more when he spirited her off to Vegas and married her in a dingy chapel with three Elvises to witness.
She still took the sleeping pills, but her head was wonderfully clean, and her marriage thrived. Indeed, a few weeks after they were married she stood at the balcony, gazing at the stars and running her hands over her still-flat stomach in amazement. Logan's jaw dropped nearly to the floor when she told him, and then he laughed and swept her into his arms and kissed her for a good, long while. Their celebration lasted so long into the night that she forgot all about the pills.
Logan turned over and shivered, feeling a chill--Marie had left the window open again, and had probably stolen the covers as well. She'd had all the covers she needed from now on, though, he thought with a grin. He rolled over to nuzzle against her, but she wasn't there.
He didn't see her step off the ledge. He only heard a short, cut-off scream and a thud.
A roar of cold went through his body and he leapt to the window, climbed down by digging his claws into the stone wall and dropping some ten feet above the ground. When he reached her side, her legs were at an angle that looked horribly wrong and her eyes didn't see him lean over and cry her name frantically.
But I can heal her, he thought with relief. I've done it before. He gripped both her small, cold hands in his and covered her face with kisses, his mouth lingering on her brow for a long time.
They found him like that several minutes later. He wouldn't anyone come near her body until Jean knocked him out mentally. Then he slipped into an unnatural sleep, and refused to come out of it without her.
One corpse was buried several days after that, and another lay in the mansion's lab until Xavier took pity on him and let his mind go from his body as his wife's so often had, let him follow after her in death like he hadn't been able to in life.