[The Blonde]

Marie stood, feeling her brain click over into that emotionless place she used for missions and assignments. Assess. Process. Formulate. Execute. Smooth, and controlled. All logic and rationality. Don't feel. Don't dwell. Just do. Get it done and fall apart later.

She slipped a hand up under the long hem of her sleep shirt and pulled off her panties, letting them drop by Logan's prone body. What had felt warm and sexy a few minutes ago now felt cold and uncomfortably wet. To have an intimate reminder of the things that would never be hers pressed up next to her skin was too painful to bear. She pulled on her pants and boots, quickly checking the necessities. ID. Money. Phone. Keys. Everything shoved in her small pack. She swept the room with her eyes, making sure nothing critical got left behind.

Logan watched her as best as he could from the floor, her movements quick and efficient as she passed in and out of his field of view. Whoever had taught her had done a good job. She was gone in under two minutes. He wondered if she'd left her panties behind to torture him. He wouldn't put anything past her now. The intimate scent of them together following her cruel, vicious words was a special sort of agony.

A few minutes later, he rolled to a sit, pushing his back against the wall for support. In another few minutes he could stand unsteadily. He stumbled, cursing as he sat down heavily on the foot of the bed. The panties were at his feet. He bent to pick them up, head pounding, and threw them violently across the room. They hit the mirror and fell to the counter.

With a shaking hand, he untucked the tails of his shirt to hide the wet stain at the front of his pants. Feeling it was bad enough. He couldn't stand looking at it a second longer. The pain was too sharp. With her every ugly word ringing in his head, the sight of it sickened him. Her rejection had left him shattered. Naked and raw, like that day he'd woken up alone in the snow with the claws in his hands and the tags around his neck. He felt just as lost now as he had then.

Alone. Vulnerable. Broken in a way he never had been before.

He scrubbed a hand over his face, wiping angrily at the wetness he found there. He felt like trashing the room but didn't have the energy for it. His eyes fell on his forearm, his pulse beating strongly in the thick network of veins. The claws were out a second later. The urge to open himself up and bleed the ground red pressed in on him like a heavy wave, but this was the kind of place that had regular housekeeping. Even if he passed out, he'd heal eventually and someone would find him. He didn't need that kind of attention. He'd lick his wounds later.

Logan put the claws back in and struggled to the sink, steadier now. He splashed water on his face, the cold clearing the buzz in his brain as he met the haggard eyes of the man in the mirror. The claws came out again. This time he hacked at his hair, shearing away thick handfuls that fell into the sink like black water. Her scent clung to it.

An inborn urge to rub ashes on his face startled him as he was cutting away the last of it. Mourning, he realized. He was mourning. The claws disappeared and he stared back at the haunted face, the eyes dark with rage and hurt. He looked like himself again, the choppy wild hair that stuck up strangely and made him even more unapproachable. His gaze slid away, looking for somewhere less painful to rest. It fell on her panties. Fury and despair rose sharply. His first instinct was to sweep them into the trash along with his hair. They were already crushed in his fist, held over the trash and then he stopped.

It was the last chance. Who knew how many more centuries he might live? Maybe nothing would kill him. Could he endure eternity without ever knowing her taste? He was angry now and hurt. In a few decades it would fade and then he'd just be numb and alone. Forever alone. Someday even the paper cranes would be gone. But this... scent and taste were so strong for him. He never forgot one. Never. Nobody could ever take that from him, not even time.

He sat on the bed, slowly. It smelled like her, fresh snow and incense... and pepperoni. A sound welled up in his throat and he swallowed it down, afraid of what might follow the macabre laughter. He brought the black scrap to his face and closed his eyes. Her soft feminine scent was rich and strong. Under it he could detect a faint trace of his own intimate scent. The crotch was drenched. She had wanted him. Her body had been ready to receive his. That part hadn't been a lie. The flavor burst over his tongue, clear like a bell in crisp air, sweet and earthy. He sucked strongly and the flavor bloomed, overwhelming his powerful senses.

It made him hard again.

It made his eyes wet.

It made his chest hurt.

It was goodbye.

Rising smoothly, he walked back to the sink and with motions as calm and controlled as hers had been, he used them to sweep the hair into the trash and threw them in after.

His life had held so little brightness.

And now it was gone.

~ooOoo~

He returned to Japan.

A year passed. And then another. He lost himself in the rhythm of his life. Working. Drinking. Fucking. Killing. Covert missions and secret Ops and pain and death and misery. The darkness suited him just fine. There was no softness anymore. She'd burned the last of it out of him that night on the dirty floor of that hotel in Westchester.

In his more contemplative moments, he wondered if that was how she'd felt by the lily pond a decade ago. Cold and dead inside. No wonder she'd been so damned driven to become the Rogue in fact as well as in name.

He swallowed the blame for that too.

Her words haunted him. She had been wrong about so many things, but with time and reflection, he came to understand she'd been right about a lot of things too. Too many things.

And when he was alone, on the rare nights his hands were idle and still, he'd sometimes look down and realized he'd folded a paper crane. It made him feel foolish and yet he couldn't ever bring himself to destroy them. So he left them tucked in strange, hidden places. Between the pages of a hotel bible. Under a stone in a Zen garden. Perched jauntily along a footpath or in the middle of a worn wooden bridge.

Over time he came to realize each time he gave one away, the stones in his heart grew lighter.

Perhaps someday when a thousand forests had become paper cranes, he might find some small measure of peace.

~ooOoo~

The soft chime of his phone woke him. Nothing good ever came of calls at that time of night. He'd know. He'd made enough of them himself. The clock read 3:27 AM and a shudder ran through him, leaving a lingering sense of unease.

He checked the display and his hand started shaking.

It was Jubilee's number. There was only one reason that little firecracker would ever call him. Only one. And for one cowardly moment, he let himself imagine not answering it. Because then he could still believe he lived in a world with Marie in it.

He touched the display and put the phone to his ear. Jubilee was crying, ugly choking sobs, but she managed to push out, "Logan?"

"Is she dead?" His voice was flat and it took everything he had left to remain still and wait for the answer.

"No. No, but—"

For a moment, he couldn't hear her. Relief and joy so profound it hurt flashed through him and he fell to his knees at the side of the bed.

"—but it's bad. Really bad. Maybe worse than—"

"Tell me!"

Jubilee started crying again.

"Stop. Now. Tell me before I lose my goddamn mind." Jubilee had said that what had happened was maybe worse than death. His mind raced with all the horrors he'd ever seen and he felt the bile rise at the back of his throat. Had she been tortured? Burned all over? Lab fuckers got her? Magneto? Raped with a knife and left to die? Brain dead? "Basics first. Then details." He knew how to deal with people in shock.

He heard her take a deep breath and then let it out shakily. "She had a psychotic break during a mission. She's in one piece physically. We had to sedate her. She's unconscious in the medical wing with Hank and Bobby."

Oh, thank Christ.

"Details now."

She started crying again.

"Don't think about her. Just tell it like a story that happened to someone else, slow and easy, honey." He kept his voice pitched low and soft, but only because that was the quickest way for him to get the information he needed. He didn't feel like being soft. He felt like shouting the sky down.

"It was a mission. Just a routine skirmish with the Brotherhood. Walk in the park, right?" She sniffed. "We were all doing our usual thing, kicking ass and looking good doing it," her voice caught on a laugh and she choked back a sob, "And then this crazy blonde crashed the party and started kicking everyone's ass. It was just, unreal... like so totally—"

"Focus."

"Like something from TV. Not like any mutant any of us had ever seen. Nothing stopped her. Nothing. I'm not even sure you could've. Rogue took off her gloves and—"

A shiver ran through him so hard it raised goose bumps over his body and he suddenly knew where this was going with sickening clarity.

"You know she's kind of a badass now. She walked right over there like she was out for a Sunday stroll, calm as anything. I think maybe the blonde thought she was surrendering because her hands were up and she wasn't fighting or running away... and then she just reached out and put her hand on the blonde's arm and then all hell broke loose. The blonde went crazy, but you know how Rogue's gift is..."

"Yeah. You're not done 'till she is." He remembered just fine.

"Yeah. The blonde tried to get away, but Rogue, she hung on and that's when it got weird."

That's when it got weird?

"Then Rogue started screaming and then the blonde one was the one who wasn't letting go, even though we could tell she was dying and Rogue seemed to almost be, I don't know— like pulsing or glowing with power, all ripply and shimmery under her skin. It was freaky."

He'd seen that once, too. That's how Jean had looked that night on Alcatraz.

Aw, Christ, kid. What did you do?

"By the time we got them apart, the blonde was dead and Rogue was totally out of it. She was speaking another language."

"That's — that's normal. She does that."

"You don't understand. I mean like another language. It didn't even sound like a human language."

"Shit."

"Shit sandwich without the bread, yeah." She took a breath and Logan could tell she was on the verge of tears again. "She's never done that before. Never killed anyone with her skin, I mean. We got her out of there pronto. Hauled our sorry asses to the Blackbird and got her home to Hank as f- fast as we could." Her voice was trembling now.

"Shh... just breathe real deep and let it out slow. Then talk. Like it was somethin' you saw not somethin' you lived."

"She came-to in the medlab and— and..." Jubilee was crying in earnest now. "She went crazy. Totally batshit. She was not herself. Not Rogue at all. Not even a little. She— she almost killed Bobby."

"What?"

"She hit him so hard. So hard. It cracked his sternum and threw his heart into arrhythmia. Kitty shocked it back into rhythm and then he shifted into his ice form. It's all crackly looking, like when you drop a big block of ice but it hasn't shattered. He's been that way ever since."

Jesus.

"Kitty saved him?" Something was wrong there.

"Yeah. Hank... he couldn't do it. Rogue broke his arm and then knocked him unconscious."

"She broke Hank's arm?" He wasn't even sure he could break Hank's arm. Stab it with the claws, sure. But not break it. Hank had a unique physiology, incredibly dense bones and massive musculature.

"Like a stick of dried spaghetti. Snap. Snap. Snap. Snap—"

Logan heard the sound of retching.

It was a minute before Jubilee picked the phone back up.

"Sorry."

"S'fine."

"She— she totally trashed the lab, like when Jean ripped the door off that one time, but you know, like all over instead of only the door. We tried to sedate her but nothing worked. Nothing would penetrate her skin. Gambit finally got to the control room, put the whole lower level on lockdown and flooded it with gas. That worked long enough for us to get in, strap her down in solitary and get the fuck out of there."

"Jesus."

"The sedative wore off hours ago. We tried to use it again but her body's adapted. It doesn't work anymore. Her brain activity says it's not a coma but she's not waking up, either."

"This was hours ago and you're just fuckin' callin' me now?"

"Yeah. I was in the lower level with her when Gambit turned the gas on, Wolvie." She huffed. "I'm good, but I'm not that good."

"Sorry."

"Logan?"

"Yeah?"

"We don't know what's gonna happen when she wakes up. We don't have the Professor or Jean anymore. Nothing's gonna hold her. Nothing we have will stop her. Nothing. We're like ants to her. We're not even sure if Rogue is in there anymore. If— if..." Her voice broke. "Hank was lucid for a little while. He thinks maybe the only thing that could stop her might be adamantium."

No. Oh, Christ Jesus, no.

"No."

He was going to be sick.

"I'm not saying it's Plan B, or even plan C or D—"

"No fuckin' way."

Your love is going to kill me.

"I know you love her."

"Shut up."

She didn't.

"All those times you called and I was such a bitch to you. You never yelled at me. Not once." She'd actually kind of admired the balls it took to keep trying. "All the times you hurt her. All the times she hurt you. You both just kept trying. That's love."

"That's two stubborn people who are too stupid to realize all they do is cause each other pain."

"I'm just asking for one more try. Just one."

"No!"

"Maybe if you just talked to her—"

"She doesn't want to see me ever again. She made that crystal fuckin' clear. I'm tellin' you, whatever is goin' on in her head right now, havin' me there would only make it worse."

"You think about this. You think about how it felt tonight when you asked me if she was dead. You think about how you'd be feeling right now if I'd said yes."

Blackness pulled at the edges of his consciousness and he swayed. The animal was very close now. So close. The man couldn't take much more. He made a choked sound.

"So fuck you. You suck it up. Whatever she did to you, you stick that in some deep dark hole and slam the door on it, m'kay? She needs you now and I swear on a stack of Jimmy Choos, if you don't help her now, I will come after you and make you wish you were dead."

Silence.

"Logan?"

He let out a long, shuddering breath.

"Where are you? Can you see her?"

"I'm with her in the psych wing. The padded room where Jean stayed when she first came here. I can see her through the glass. She's still totally out of it."

"She alone?"

"Of course. Who'd be with her except me and Hank? He'd be here, but he's sedated again. It took a lot— a special team to put his arm back together."

"Who'd be with her? How 'bout her boyfriend? That Cajun prick."

"Remy? They broke up years ago. No offence, but your intel sucks." She sighed softly. "He's been nursing a broken heart for a while now. He's keeping his distance upstairs because I kept tripping over his mopey ass. I told him I'd paff him if he didn't give me some room to work."

Frankly, he was shocked.

"Better him than me or you'd be paffin' with no hands." If he'd been there, if Marie'd wanted him and he'd been her lover, then nothing and nobody would have kept him away.

"Gotcha."

"Good. Can you put the phone to her ear or give her a headset if it's too dangerous to stay close?"

"Can do. You wanna talk to her?"

"No. But I will."

"You're not coming, are you." It was a statement not a question.

"I would if I thought it would help."

"Are you sure?"

"Honey, the last time I saw her, she used her gift on me and left me crumpled up in a heap on the floor of her hotel room to be taken out with the trash, so yeah, I'm sure." His instincts were rarely wrong and right now, they was screaming at him that putting himself in the same room with her when she was that unstable would end very badly for both of them.

"Oh my God!" Jubilee was shocked. "She really did that?"

"Yeah."

"But if she did that- then she's got you in her head now, right? She's got you on the inside again?"

I see everything. All your shame.

He winced. "That's the way it works, yeah."

"You'd— you'd help her in there too, right?"

"If I could."

"She touched me once too. By accident during a Danger Room run. Knocked me out for a bit but no biggie. I'm tougher than I look. If I'm in there, you know I'll help too. I've got her back."

"I know ya do. You're good people, honey. Annoyin' as fuck, but still good."

"Back atcha. So are you ready to get this show on the road, or what?"

"Yeah. Just- just..." He took a steadying breath. "No games, okay? Don't put it on speaker or nothin'. She's a private person and what I have to say ain't for anyone but her, you get me?"

"I'm so picking up what you're putting down, Wolvie."

"You tell me when."

"Gotcha. You'll know."

He heard the whoosh-hiss of the door sliding open and then Jubilee's voice got all echoey.

"Hi, Roguey. It's Jubes. I know a girl needs her beauty rest an' all, but Wolvie's on the horn for ya. You know I hate being the middleman between you and Mr. CrankyPants, so this time I thought you could rip him a new one yourself instead of having me do it by proxy. It's fun and all, but you're a real badass now. You can scare the shit out of him way better than I ever could... so—"

Logan heard her voice waver.

"So, I'm just gonna hold the phone up by your ear and then stop talking so Wolvie will know when he can start with the ass kissing or kicking. Whichever. But I really think you should listen to him. He's a dumbass and a bastard, but he cares, Roguey. He really, really does in his own screwed-up, male-brain kinda way. You gotta get better, chica. That blonde bitch doesn't deserve the rights of survivorship to my shoe collection. That's all you, girl. So, that's me signing off now— and you of all people know how hard it is for me to zip it while Wolvie gets free rein... so you just listen to him now. You can give me all the deets when you wake up."

Her voice fell silent.

Logan waited a moment, just to be sure she was done. Jubilee annoyed the piss out of him, but she was a damn good friend.

"Hey, kid. It's me. It's been a while, huh? I'm back in Madripoor. It's the rainy season. You know how I love that. 'Bout as much as you love spiders. But I don't feel much like makin' small talk tonight."

He took a deep breath.

"I dunno how to be anythin' but straight with you, darlin'. I'm still pissed as hell atcha. Nobody's ever hurt me that fuckin' bad. Not even those motherfuckers in the lab."

He paced across his room, to the open window and back.

"To be honest, I didn't think I'd ever be talkin' to you again, and then I get this call from the firecracker and she's cryin' and scarin' the shit outta me 'cause for a second there, she had me thinkin' you were dead. I'm pissed at ya, yeah, but I don't wish nothin' bad for you. Never did. Not even now after you ripped my fuckin' guts out."

Logan tried for balance, tried for peace but the animal was always wild with her, strong in his mind. Wanting his own say. Guiding his words.

"She said you got some crazy bitch in your head and some damned freaky powers too. That you started bustin' up the lab and hurtin' Hank and Bobby. Hank's your friend, so I don't know what you were thinkin' there. That ain't you. I'll try not to be too broken up over you takin' a cheap shot at the little ice prick. You know I've been wantin' to do that for years. It's just you're scarin' the shit outta everyone now. Hurtin' people and wreckin' the place. They tried to stop ya, threw everythin' they had at ya and nothin' worked. Hank thinks that maybe nothin' but me could stop you now."

Balance. Balance.

Grrrr...

"You and me. We ain't never been hearts and flowers, kid. This thing between us is bigger than that."

I would die for you.

"So I'm gonna tell you this once. Just once. I don't have it in me do that again and walk away. I've done it three times and I'm tellin' you, I don't have nothin' left. So you make the choice right now, you hear me? You fight and you kick her ass good. Because if I have to come down there then you should know what that's gonna mean for us both."

The animal was very close now.

"It means you go— I go. Package deal."

His face was wet.

"S'up to you, kid."

Logan could hear Jubilee crying softly in the background now.

He hung up so she'd know he'd said his piece and called back immediately. She answered on the first ring, still taking great, big, shuddering breaths.

"Logan?" She sniffed hard and he could tell she was really trying to get it together.

"Breathe, honey."

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I heard some of that on accident. I tried not to but I heard a little."

"Don't tell anyone, huh?"

"Never. It will go with me to the grave. I am seriously like your biggest fan now. I knew you loved her and all, but I swear to God, I never knew it was like that."

"Hmph."

"Really, I—" She stopped mid-word. "Oh my GOD!"

"What?"

"I think maybe it worked. I think maybe it did a little. She heard you! She really, really did. Her eyes are still closed and she's still totally out of it but tears are leaking out of her now."

"Good. That's good. That means she's still in there, but don't go thinkin' that means she's gonna wanna see me when she finally opens her eyes. She hates my guts."

"I seriously doubt that."

"Call me when she wakes up."

"Will do... Logan?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks. I love her too, you know?"

"Yeah, honey. I know."

Up next: The Army. You go— I go. Package deal. Marie has a choice to make; let go... or stay and fight.