April 13th, 1912
1:15am

There wasn't a single cloud up in the sky, causing the stars to shine brightly down upon the large vessel, and the man waiting at the stern of the ship. A small flame appeared close to the man's face as he lit a pipe and slowly dragged the poison into his system.

Footsteps sounding behind him cause the man to turn around. Robert Darkholme's smiling face greeted him as he held up a cigarette, wanting it to be lit by the still open flame of the lighter. He moved it over to the tip of the wrapped plant and lit it up.

"We must accelerate our plans, if your friend's mental ramblings always come true," the man who had been waiting said as he turned to look out at the water. "Such a pity... So much metal put into a ship like this, it would pain me to see it at the bottom of the ocean."

When he looked back at his friend, he was met with the form of a very blue and very scaly woman with hair the color of dark fire. If any crewmember should look out at the bow of the ship, they would be unable to see her, her skin blended so perfectly with the darkness of night, and her hair wasn't bright enough. "Irene's always right. In a way, it might prove better. No doubt his Will has already been remade with Marie in mind. They would just think he went down with the ship, having already given Marie all the information to access his accounts and safes."

"If she is right about the girl."

"I already told you she is always right. She predicted Marie's mutation, and it will happen. Just not exactly as we expected. Marie will do anything her parents ask her to, even marry that fool. Even go to that fool in a couple nights. The night of the sinking. He will be unable to resist. So long as you can keep your friend and his minions from ruining everything." Her yellow eyes grew brighter with contempt for the man called Xavier.

"Leave him to me. And my men will deal with his. Our only real problem may be his new minion. I saw him staring at the girl during dinner -- and she stared back. You have to keep her curiosity at bay, Raven."

"Don't worry, I will. Curiosity is to be expected in a girl her age. However, she will not defy me or her 'mother'."

The pain in her voice when she called Irene Marie's mother was evident, even to Erik. Even if Marie was not truly her child, she believed it. It was ironic, in fact, that Raven was using a child she acted like her daughter to get at her real son. But Graydon was going to expose mutants to the world in America, list off the ones he knew of, if only by nickname. Of course, they were on that list. So it was decided that Graydon and the list had to be destroyed.

Erik rested a hand on Raven's shoulder. "It is for the best, Raven. This must be done. You know he would kill you himself if he knew."

Her yellow eyes cast downwards to the deck. "I know..."

He gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "You should best be on your way. Chances are this will be a rough night for your family."

With a nod, Raven's body shifted before his eyes into that of Robert Darkholme. Who bore a striking resemblance to that of Senator Kelly simply because that was the template Raven had used to create Marie's father. Disguised as the famous man, Raven began the walk back to her quarters where there was no doubt that Marie at least was still up.

As soon as she had gone, two forms appeared from deep within the shadows. "Victor... Mortimer..." Erik addressed them without even turning around to see them. He didn't need to, Victor's heavy breathing alerted him to that presence, and he could trust Mortimer unlike any other person in the world to always do as told. "I need for you to pay a visit to Xavier's new comrade later today. Give him a 'friendly' greeting, hm?"

A growl was his only response from Victor, and a happy growl at that. Victor was happy so long as it involved bloodshed and causing other people pain. Erik could just imagine the curt nod he got from Mortimer, silent as always. Silent and deadly, that was the way Mortimer worked. Two extremely different personalities, but together they worked great. So long as they weren't trying to kill each other, which had happened once or twice in the past.

Charles may want to welcome an era where humans know of and accept mutants as normal beings, yearning to no longer have to hide in the dark or behind an invisible mask of normality. But Erik knew better. He knew humans would never accept them. After all, they feared what they didn't understand. And mutants were something they wouldn't be able to begin to comprehend. They would be hunted like animals and treated even worse. That was the future Erik could see upon them being exposed to the horrid elements of human hatred.

"If you prick us, do we not bleed? As we bleed, is our blood not red? If you beat us down, do we not fight back?" the words tumbled from his mouth as a hushed murmur. His eyes gazed up at the stars, watching them blur together into one massive light as his eyes clouded over. "Does time not eventually catch up with us as we die?"

Another one of his coughing fits violated his entire body, shaking it to the point that he thought he might collapse. He didn't need a doctor to tell him he was dying, it was clear to him. It took a great deal control to keep it from everyone else, which probably made things far worse for when he was alone and didn't need to hide it under a calm smile and an intent gaze. Erik feared he would not make it off this ship. Maybe it was for the best. Charles was there anyway. He could spend his time plotting the fate of Graydon Creed and reconciling with his age-old friend at the same time.

There was no doubt in his mind that Charles already knew of Erik's terminal condition, whatever it was. The look he had one his face when Erik had lost control and had a coughing fit while Irene was having a breakdown proved it.

He shouldn't dwell too much on it, it wasn't healthy for his mind. Besides, he wasn't even remotely sure of when he would die, he could live years for all he knew. But those years would be in painful misery, trying to help his brothers.

Sticking the pipe back in his mouth and taking in another breath, he headed back to his cabin. It was getting just too damn cold out.

April 13th, 1912
10:06am

A low growl escaped his throat at the look the redhead gave him. A look of amusement at seeing Logan standing there with a book in hand. A book. He couldn't remember ever having actually touched one, let alone read the damn thing.

He'd managed to hide the fact he was reading it from Scott, but try to hide something like that from a telepath. "You know, you should return that," she told him.

Logan mumbled something that somewhat sounded like an agreement before returning to the pages. It was a romance novel, no doubts there. But it also had action, adventure, and beheadings. It was a good book so long as he skipped past the really mushy parts. At least it wasn't one of Jean's steamy novels she liked to read on occasion.

Yet the damn book wouldn't let him skip the mushy parts. He found quickly that if he did, he'd lose some of the storyline. So the mushy parts had to be read, or at least skimmed through for key elements of the story. It added even mystery to the damn thing. Probably what kept him so interested.

He cursed the book. He cursed the author. He even cursed the girl who grabbed his attention at dinner for reasons completely unknown to him. She was just a girl, no different from any other rich girl he had seen. But there was something there, something between them. Jean even knew it too. Ever since dinner she'd been slowly prodding him to go return the book and talk to her. Find out her name, since Xavier refused to tell him, saying it was something he had to find out for himself.

The fucking telepaths were out to destroy him.

And so was this goddamned book.

Every animal instinct was screaming at him to just return the book, just give it up. But fear stopped him. Fear and intrigue. Intrigue in the book, fear of actually meeting this girl. He glanced over at the redhead. "You ever read this?" he asked, holding up the book so she could see the title.

"The Scarlet Pimpernel?" She shook her head. "No, I've never even heard of it."

Without warning, he slammed the book shut. "That's it. I'm returning this piece of shit."

A small smile tugged at the corners of Jean's mouth. "Is it a piece of shit because you actually enjoyed reading what you did?"

"Damn right it is." Reaching for the coat that went with his highly uncomfortable suit, Logan put it on. "How can men wear these things?"

"You should try wearing a corset and a dress."

An irritated moan escaped his lips. If he didn't move fast, he'd be drawn into another Battle of the Sexes with Jean. What Logan hated most about those battles were that she almost always won. Scott was smart enough to always agree with his wife. But Logan wasn't married to her, and he had only known her for around six months.

If you had told Logan seven months ago that he would be working for some rich mutant and wearing uncomfortable yet expensive clothes while traveling on the biggest ship in the world. He would have laughed. Well, more like he would have looked at you as if you had just grown another head, then returned to whatever he was doing without further acknowledging your presence.

Their meeting had been simple enough. Took place in a seedy bar in Canada the young couple had somehow stumbled into. They asked for directions just at the moment an all-out brawl erupted. Logan didn't know how it had started-- Well, okay, he knew exactly how it had started, because he was the one that threw the first punch. But he ended up unknowingly saving the couple's lives. Afterwards, they sought him out to an even seedier place that housed penniless travelers and homeless people in return for chores.

It was then and there that the business proposition was made. At the time, anything seemed better than what he was doing, so he took it up. Plus he found it a great sport to torment Scott. Downside was that he was starting to loosen up and getting far better at comebacks.

"You just going to stand there, fuming? Or are you going to finally return the book?"

Another growl emerged as he took the book in his hands and left the cabin. Logan didn't like speaking much. He could say just as much as full sentences by simply growling a certain way. His employers were quick to learn the basic Logan'ese. Pretty soon he would have to start teaching them the harder stuff, like grunts. Then the challenge: Glares.

Logan mused and fumed and then paused in his tracks after a few minutes of roaming. Realization dawned on him that he had no idea where the girl's quarters were, or her name to ask where they are. "Shit..." he mumbled under his breath, mentally kicking himself for being so stupid as to not thinking of this dilemma before he set out. He might have been able to get the room number from Jean or the Professor. But now his pride wouldn't let him go back and ask.

So Logan used the only choice he had. He was his own fucking Hound dog and used the book to capture the vaguely familiar scent of the girl in order to track her down to her room. It took longer than had he asked, but he kept his pride intact.

Once he arrived at the door, he found himself stalling. For the first time in his life, he actually thought about making a good first impression. Then he chided himself. His first impression to this girl would be of a weird guy staring at her from another table. So in the end, it didn't matter that much.

Tentatively, he knocked on the door and waited for a response. Checking his watch, he hoped that they weren't still asleep. No doubt they would have had a rough night after that woman's episode at dinner. That sort of thing even kept the people he worked for up most of the night, quietly discussing it among other things. Logan really didn't know what, he'd been too engrossed in the book.

Now that he thought about, he never did find out who the Scarlet Pimpernel was. But he would bet the twenty bucks in his pocket that it was that Ffoulkes guy.

The door opening brought his attention back to present matters. It only opened a crack and an eye peeked out at him. "Can I help you?" the maid asked in a soft voice.

"Yeah..." Logan paused briefly to think on how to word it right so he might be able to speak to the girl who owned the book. "A young lady dropped this book last night, and I came to return it to her."

"Kitty? Who is it?"

Curiosity overcame Logan as he tried to see the face that belong to the voice that spoke. Even though he knew it was the girl, he wanted to see her again.

"It is a man returning a book, Miss."

The door opened all the way as the young lady came up to see him. Her chocolate eyes got bigger as she saw him and her body tensed from surprise and nervousness. "You have my book?" she asked him kindly, moving away and gesturing for him to enter.

With a nod Logan did as directed and strode into the small living room of sorts. Two sets of couches faced each other with decorative flowers, vases, lamps, and paintings were chosen to go perfectly with the coloring of the room itself. It invited a warm, soft atmosphere to it. Cheerful, yet not overwhelming.

"I am so thankful, Mister..."

"Logan."

"Mister Logan."

His trademark half-smile that he rarely ever used crept onto his face. "Just Logan. I'm not the formal type."

"Well, thank you again. I thought for certain that I had lost my favorite book and would have to wait until we reached America to buy a new one." She clenched the book in question that was handed to her tightly against her bodice.

"Maybe you should anyways. That novel looks to have seen better days."

A smile lit up on her face as a soft giggle escaped her perfectly shaped and colored lips. Logan could tell that she had yet to don any makeup, which made her look so real and pure. Even though her skin looked as if it was in desperate need of more sun.

As they stood there in a comfortable silence, they examined each other at the same time. She was dressed in a lightweight gown for the earlier day, possibly the same dress she would wear for lunch. It was white with rose trimmings and snuggled so perfectly on her petite form. Her auburn hair was done up delicately yet left the white streak to hang freely across her face. He was wearing more casual clothes than the night before. All black pants with a matching dress shirt and a dark grey coat, yet still dressed up enough to be accepted in the First Class area of the ship. But the unruly hair and sideburns he had were extreme and really didn't fit in with the upper class.

"So, you never told me your name, darlin'."

A faint tinge of red rose to her cheeks at the term he addressed her or embarrassment, or both. "Ah'm sorry. Marie Darkholme."

"'Ah'm'?" he repeated. Marie hadn't had an accent a moment ago.

"Yah... Ah'm from tha' Southern part of America... sometimes get an accent."

His half-smile broke out more into a grin the more she blushed. "What sets it off?"

"Well..." She got even redder and turned her face away shyly to try and hide it. She let the sentence linger in the air, hoping he didn't press her further to answer it.

As much as he'd like to, he figured he'd let her go that time for it. "Well, Miss Marie. I returned your book and got your name. It would be my pleasure to see you again." Good God... that was the most he'd ever been proper. And it wasn't stopping there. Gently, he pulled away one of her gloved hands from her novel to kiss the back of it. His lips lingering perhaps a bit longer than they should have.

Her breath hitched at the pleasant, yet small contact, even through the gloves. "Will..." her voice betrayed her and she was forced to swallow and try again. "Will you be there for lunch?"

"I wasn't planning on it. But if you'll be there, I will too."

That wonderful smile of hers that lit up her whole face and livened up her soul appeared again. They stood like that for who knows how long, staring at each other while he absentmindedly rubbed her hand with his thumb.

Logan let go of her hand and started to move away. Were it not for his keen sense of hearing, he wouldn't have heard the small whimper that came from Marie as he did. "I'll see you then," he told her as he left the room. Even though they both didn't want to separate, it was for her own good at least. Some of the thoughts straying into his head were becoming too tempting to resist.

April 13th, 1912
12:43pm

A sigh escaped her for the fifth time in the last minute. He wasn't going to come. Lunch had pretty much come and gone, so now it was back to the mindless chatter of her wedding that she paid no attention to. Although she should, it was her wedding after all, but her thoughts were elsewhere. They were on a certain man who had promised to show and then broken that promise.

"Marie?" The light touch on her gloved hand made her jump and gasp. Once her heart settled she realized it was just Graydon, concerned over her lack of attention. "Are you alright, my dear?"

"O-of course. I'm fine. I'm just... a bit tired, that's all. Forgive me," she stuttered out, hoping it was a good enough an excuse for him. Thankfully, it was, and he repeated the question to her to which she gave an answer. Logan wasn't going to show, and that was final. What made her puzzled was why she cared so much, why she had been looking forward to it as she had. She didn't know him, he didn't know her, why should she care at all?

Fingering the book hidden within the folds of her dress, she let her mind wander yet again. Back to the brief time they had spent in the living room of her quarters. He seemed so nice, so sincere. And safe... It was an odd thing to think about someone, but he gave her a sense of security that no one else had. But most of all, he was real. His gestures, his speech, the way he looked at her, it was all real. It wasn't fake like what she was used to. And that made her want to get to know him, to be real around him.

That wasn't very likely if he didn't show his ass when he said he would. Marie looked over at the table he should have been sitting at. The same people were there, with the exception of two newcomers. One was a girl with a truly outrageous hairstyle. Different shades of different colors and bright neon streaks carefully braided. That was a girl with guts. A man sat next to her, who wore sunglasses and a trenchcoat, even at the table! That was absurd and unheard of. Marie got the feeling she had seen him before... As she mused over it, it came to her. The man was a waiter at the Café Parisian on the ship.

As lunch was nearing the end, Marie excused herself to get some fresh air once again. Worry had started to replace the hatred she felt towards Logan at that moment. Worry something had happened to him. Maybe it was her romance novel-riddled brain that made her think he was in any sort of trouble. Truth was, he probably just ditched going without a second thought.

In the back of her mind, Marie knew that wasn't true. Something was wrong. It was like a nagging feeling that she couldn't erase or push back. Walking faster than normal, Marie went to her quarters to see if he was there or left a note. The maid was certain that he hadn't been there since returning the book prior, and no notes had been delivered.

Quietly returning to the dining area, she slipped over to his friends. They greeted her with a warm, kind smile. Professor Xavier with the kindest of all. "Ah, Marie. What can we do for you?"

Suddenly, Marie realized she didn't know quite how to put it. Last thing she wanted was more gossip concerning her family floating around the ship. "There was a man with you... With sideburns... He returned a book to me earlier and I wish to thank him for it. Do you know where he is?"

Xavier's eyes clouded over as if he was in deep thought for a moment before returning their focus on Marie. "I believe he is down below... in part of the Scotland Road..." his voice spoke barely above a whisper, and Marie was uncertain whether he had truly meant for her to hear it.

Nevertheless, she thanked him kindly and walked away at a fast pace. Something in her yearning to run. A deep pain filled her chest as she thought more about what could be wrong. She tried to think happy thoughts, to chide herself for letting her mind get carried away. The feeling stayed no matter what she did.

After asking for directions, Marie ended up in the Scotland Road, a length of corridors that ran the ship front to back to allow crewmembers easier passage, and ran around them looking for Logan. "Logan!" she cried out, desperate to find him as soon as possible if just to ease the pain she was feeling. It was uncalled for, unknown. Only once had she felt it before and it was when she couldn't find Irene. During one of her breakdowns, her mother had wandered off into the woods surrounding their home. It took Marie two hours to find her mother again and bring her home.

Right before she reached one of the hatches, it opened and Logan stepped out. "Logan!" she cried and almost ran to him to hug him fiercely. But the proper part of her kept her back, refusing to let her do that. Her eyes took him in. He was wearing the exact same clothes as before, and didn't appear to be injured in any way.

"Marie? What are you doing here?" he asked gruffly, narrowing his eyes at her.

"You didn't come for lunch... I got a bit worried..."

Logan laughed and Marie cringed. It wasn't a pleasant laugh. In fact, his whole demeanor had changed drastically from before. "Why would I have gone to lunch?"

"Because you told me you would..."

"Listen, kid. All I did was return your damn book. I wasn't lookin' for anything else. Well, maybe a good fuck, but I didn't think I'd get that far with you."

"What?" Marie couldn't believe this. This wasn't Logan... this wasn't the Logan she had met almost two hours ago.

"Unless I was wrong..." His voice was low and menacing as he stalked towards Marie. Out of uncertainty, she stepped back until she was pressed against another door.

The look in his eyes and the expression on his face made her fear for her life. This wasn't Logan. She just knew it couldn't be Logan. The eyes were the windows to the soul, and when she looked in Logan's eyes before, none of what she saw now were there. It's like he was a completely different person.

He didn't stop coming until his body was pressed against hers. Eyes wide with fear and confusion, she just stared at him and breathed out ragged breaths. Using the scarf around her neck, he pulled it up to trace a finger against her cheek, as if he was afraid to touch her skin. Maybe what her parents had said was right, about how much a girl must keep herself pure for her future husband.

"I think I was wrong..." he mused with a wicked grin, his voice a whisper and a faint breath upon her face.

"Logan--" her southern drawl was back in full force from the stress of the situation. She didn't get to finish what she was going to say before the hairy man had pulled the scarf over her lips and kissed her deeply as his hands rested on her hips so he could buck his harshly into hers. Marie gasped and her eyes widened at the sensation she had never felt before. It felt good in a way, but mostly it felt wrong. In her dreams something like this would be sweet and gentle and with the man that she loved. This wasn't any of those things.

Anger fueled into her system as Logan continued to assault her with as much gentleness as a bear. Doing the only thing she could think of, she took off one of her gloves and slashed at his face, desperate to get this man away from her. Logan cried out in pain and slammed her against the bulkhead. "You bitch!" he yelled as one hand covered the side of his face that she had scratched. "You'll get what's coming to you," the man she thought she knew declared before storming out of the passageway.

Marie stood there a moment, her head buzzed from the impact with the bulkhead. Trembling fingers tried to make their way back into the glove she had discarded. Her body leaned against the wall, trembling and frightened as she took in short, shallow breaths. Her eyes stung with tears that refused to fall. The smell of blood came to her senses when she wiped the sweat off her brow. She must have blood on her hand from scratching Logan. Yes, she did. It was seeping through the glove.

The door that Logan had come through burst open again, causing poor Marie to jump and let out a shriek against her constricting vocal cords. Yet what she saw before her made her eyes widen briefly before all thought became a blank, as did the world around her once her body hit the deck.