Disclaimer: This fan-fiction is not written for profit and no infringement of copyright is intended. Still unbetaed, mistakes are still all mine.
STILL-LIFE
CHAPTER NINE
He wasn't sure how to do this.
Logan rested his hand on Red's tomb-stone and took a deep breath. Felt the heat from a long day baking in the sun warm his palm, listened to the birds sing softly as night fell. Wondered for the hundredth time what Jean would say if she were here, and whether he was doing the right thing, telling Rogue how he felt. Whether he'd ever work up the nerve to show the Kid he wasn't really an old man.
Not that staring at a lump of stone would help with that any.
He pushed the thought away.
It'd been a long time since he'd come to see Red. When he'd first lost her the spot had felt like it was cursed, going there had hurt so much. And then after San Francisco, after Scott and Chuck had come to rest here too, there had been even less reason to come. He didn't do funerals or grave-sides. Just wakes. Death was a constant companion for him, the one thing he couldn't ever beat. No matter what he did those around him would pass and he-
He would walk on. Survive. God only knew how long he'd been doing that.
He sometimes wondered whether he'd end up being the last man on Earth.
Felt the ghost of Marie move in him then, wrap her arms around him and whisper that everything would be alright. Felt weird and right at the same time. Intimate. She had a habit of doing that, the Marie in his head. Kinda like her real-life counterpart. He forced his eyes shut at the sensation, trying not to feel her heart twist at his pain. Trying not to wish for her presence right now. Didn't entirely work, but he tried.
A beat.
Logan crouched at the grave then, ran his fingers along the letters. Friend, he read, Inspiration. Not Daughter because Jean's family had been too damn ashamed of her mutation to come to the funeral. Not Wife because Scott was lying in the ground next to her. The light was fading rapidly but he'd have been able to see them in near pitch black. After all, he wasn't really an old man. The letters felt wet and cold against his skin, chilled despite the summer heat. Sorrowful. It occurred to him that this was a real dead way to commemorate someone who'd been so alive, but he didn't make the rules about that sort o' thing.
Another beat. He knew he had to begin.
"I know what I want now, darlin'," he began softly. Wasn't sure whether he was talking to Red or Marie. Wasn't sure he wanted either of 'em t'hear. "I just... My healing factor kicked in, y'know?" he continued. "Don't think I wanted it to…Didn't even notice when it did… But it happened, and I ain't sorry." And he dropped his hand from the tombstone, the dew staining his fingers, almost like tears. That was the hardest part of this, he knew. Saying the truth out loud. Admitting he still felt a tiny bit like he was cheating on a dead woman with one who was alive.
And admitting that part of him didn't care, if it meant he could be with Marie.
He scowled then, not happy with that realisation. But knowing it was simply the way this worked. "She's here now," he said eventually, when the silence started to feel accusing. "Feel's like we've got a second chance, after all the times I screwed up. I think…" He trailed off for a second, Marie's memories overpowering him. It was a great gift, to know that someone thought you were a truly good man. Even if she was wrong. "I love her. Always have. Always will. Not the same as you and me Red, but that's the way this goes." And he dragged one hand through his hair, wishin' he could put that better, wishin' he had some of Hank's eloquence. Because then it might not sound so God-awful as it did.
But he still wouldn't change it, he realised, even if he could. Even if she'd asked him to. And the woman who'd loved Scott Summers to distraction woulda understood that.
Jean Grey knew a bit about love.
He felt it then, something snapping. Some cord that had been binding him breaking in two. But that was all it was, one little cord. He realised as he felt it fade into nothingness how afraid he had been of its absence, afraid before now of letting it snap. It had come to feel like home to him. After she'd died it'd felt like that was the only thing holdin' him together, a little scrap o' grief like a noose 'round his heart. He'd used it to get him through the day, t'keep him in one piece when he wasn't sure how t'do that on his own. That was why Rogue'd scared him so much four years ago: some part of him'd wanted her and it had felt like he'd fall apart if he gave in. No wonder she'd been so confused: He'd been confused as Hell too. He'd hurt her, he realised, without ever meaning to. But he wouldn't do it again.
Logan stood.
He wasn't big on talking. They had Hank for that. And all the things he really wanted t'say couldn't easily be put into words. But he was glad he'd come here, and if Jean were here she'd've been glad too. Scooter would've hurt himself throwing a hissy fit but Red would've understood. Probably fought their corner too, if it came right down to it. He remembered telling her, years ago, that he had no interest in Rogue, remembered giving her an out when she tried to let him down gently. Felt right now like she was returning the favour.
Like he didn't have to be an old man, just because he'd survived.
Another beat. A beat of grace.
He felt Red let him go.
Logan made for the mansion then, his face split in a smile. Marie smiled right along with him in his head. In his heart. He was gonna have a shower before he went to see her. Maybe change his clothes. He could hear Kurt and Hank's comments already but he didn't care none. They weren't as pretty as him anyhow. He smiled as he pictured her face, remembered the way she always was happy t'see him. Didn't care how long they had, what troubles they would run into: he knew how she felt about him, and that was enough. He was done running away from this, for the sake of a woman who'd only ever wanted him to be happy. And besides, he was a pretty decent problem-solver: Marie's mutation would prove a challenge and nothin' more. He was already wonderin' how thick silk had to be, to stop Old Reliable from kicking in. Or the New Reliable, for that matter. They'd have to do some tests on that… Lots and lots of strenuous tests… And how often would he have to touch her, 'fore he became immune? Another area for in-depth research, whether Hank agreed or not…He smiled more as he thought about it, the lightness in his chest unfamiliar and welcome-
And then he froze.
For one moment he thought he saw something stir in the lengthening shadows. Something which moved too fast to be human. He stopped, instantly alert, letting every sense go into over-drive. Sniffed the air, listened hard as he could. Let the beast inside him come out to play for a second, suspicious, because he knew enough about himself and Marie's luck to wanna check this out.
But there was nothing. Nothing.
Slowly he began to walk again, still not happy but unable to find a reason for staying. Course, it was possible that one of the students simply hadn't learned to control their powers yet; April Kaszinski could create thought forms, and J.J. Guiterrez often projected illusions whether he wanted to or not. But still, still… He padded into the mansion, his brow still drawn. Something buzzing at the edge of his thoughts. Dancing just out of his reach.
But then he had to find Marie, and tell her, and show her, and the thought of that sent everything else to the back of his mind. He let the suspicion drift away, giving the thought of Marie his whole attention.
And there, beneath the moonlight, some...thing watched him go. Something that had once been powerful. Something that had once been whole. Given life now, purpose, awoken by the memory of the one it had lost-
The Echo whispered into life.
A/N Once again, thanks to everyone who has reviewed, i'm glad this continues to entertain. Any and all feedback welcome and appreciated. And of course, i will update as soon as i can... I so like playing with Rhett and Scarlett... (And Wolvie ain't the Rhett...)
Hobbits away, ho!
