April 14th, 1912
1: 57am

"I was about to give up hope that you would show."

"Irene had another vision. She has no doubt it's this voyage it will happen."

Erik glanced briefly at the blue woman beside him. No matter how many times she relaxes and goes back to her original form, he will never get used to seeing a blue woman. "Does she know when?"

Raven shook her head, a few strands of her fiery red hair falling out of place. "No, but she says there will sufficient time in doing what we plan after we hit."

"Your top priority is making sure that the girl complies enough for it to happen."

"What about yours? Your stupid henchmen didn't dispatch of that one like they said. In fact, I don't doubt she's with him now. I'll have to work more on her." She eyed the cigarette hanging from her leader's mouth.

With a slight grin, Erik retrieved his case and held it out to her, open. She took one and he lit it for her. The two of them stood for a few minutes in silence, reveling as the addictive drug spread like wildfire through their systems. Raven rarely smoked, but when she did, he didn't say anything about it. He had practically thrown his life away to those little wrapped goods, but he wasn't about to tell anyone else not to.

"Do not worry about them, my dear," he said with a puff of smoke escaping his lips. "New events have unfolded which I believe will keep them occupied."

"What new events?"

As if planned on cue, Wanda, dressed in her customary red, approached the duo at the stern of the ship. "You've made Pietro a happy man."

Erik chuckled at the thought. "Yes, I've no doubt I have. But make it clear to him that neither of the girls is to be harmed at all costs. Unless one tries to escape, then some force will be tolerated in order to keep them contained."

"Why not harm them? They're our enemy."

Erik treated Wanda as one would a child who simply does not understand. "Because, one day they may join our cause. And if we harm them, all hope of that is lost. You know how powerful the one is, and how useful the other could be."

"Yes. Perhaps I should go back and remind Pietro before he tries anything. I don't trust him alone with them for long. And, how long are we to keep them?"

"You'll know when you can release the girls," Erik answered, unwilling to tell his other followers of the events to come just yet. They might not be of good service to him if they knew.

Wanda opened her mouth to ask what he meant by that, but Erik had turned his back on her. Sighing and clamping her mouth shut, the red-clad woman left at the dismissal.

"I don't know who's more incompetent. The two lackeys in the lower classes, or that hyper boy," Raven mused more to herself than to Erik.

"That is a good question. One I hope they do not go to great lengths to answer."

April 14th, 1912
10: 15am

Peaceful slumbers were rudely interrupted with a rough shake and a shout of her name, yelling at her to get up. Her body and mind felt like they hadn't received the required amount of sleep and begged to be left alone. But the unnerving person was persistent and wanted her up, no questions asked.

With a moan, Marie opened one eye and waited as it focused on the fuming form of her father. "Get up, dammit!" he yelled at her even louder, making her flinch despite the foggy haze of consciousness she had entered.

Never in her life had she seen him so mad, and it frightened her greatly. Especially since she couldn't fathom what he was-- Oh... She had gone out when she was supposed to be grounded. That was it, wasn't it. "Mmm... Father?" her voice was weak and cracked from having just woken up.

"I cannot believe how you deliberately disobeyed me."

Forcing herself into a sitting position, she ignored the strong protests to just curl up under the covers. "I'm twenty years old, Father. Old enough to make my own decisions and live my own life."

"So far as you have Darkholme as your last name, you are my daughter and will do as I say. Is that understood? Your mother needed you last night. She had another one of her attacks, and you weren't here to help her. You know you are the only hope of getting her out of them before she passes out!"

He stared coldly at Marie, his anger still clearly evident upon his aged features. In fact, he looked many years older from the previous night. A lot was weighing on him, she knew, and hated that she had added to it in any way, even moreso, she hated that she hadn't been there for her mother. "I'm sorry, Father."

"Starting with that man you continue to see. You are not allowed to anymore. He is no good for you, Marie. You must keep yourself pure for Graydon."

"But, Father--" Marie began to protest before she was violently cut off.

"Not 'but's about it! I refuse to allow my daughter to associate with that... that... piece of gutter trash. Nor will I allow you to associate with any of his friends."

"He is not gutter trash! And I will associate with whomever I want." The argument was beginning to make her wake up. "You cannot live my life for me, Father."

Robert Darkholme opened his mouth to argue more when his wife interrupted. "Darling, Marie must get ready if we are to be in time for the tour."

The tour of the ship! She had forgotten about. It was at eleven o'clock, which left her hardly any time to get her sorry butt out of bed and into something appropriate. Mr. Andrews was giving tours to whoever wanted one, and her father had booked it with the Master Shipbuilder last night over dinner.

Her father glared at her. "We shall continue this later." Before Marie could even blink, Robert was out the door and closing it behind him.

With a sigh, she hoisted herself to her feet, stretching her lazy limbs. Her dresser was greeted by way of shuffling feet and half-closed eyelids. She grabbed a hold of her usual corset and fitted it on before peeking her head out and calling to a maid for help. Silence reigned as she was laced up. Usually Jubilee was quite chattery about the wedding. As if she could sense that Marie didn't wish to discuss anything, her servant remained blissfully silent as she laced up the corset tightly.

If there was one thing in life she despised more than being forced to marry. It was corsets. They were as unpleasant as Hell. They were hard to move in, made her back ache something fierce, moved her internal organs to places where they should not be, and could sometimes make breathing difficult. However, she had to admit that she had it far better than her ancestors, who required Fainting Rooms because of the damn things. Why did fashion always have to be a pain?

Allowing her maid to dress her and do up her hair and makeup gave Marie a lot of time to think. Mainly about last night with Logan. He had been so different in that atmosphere, so more at home. Where in turn, she was the one who felt out of place. Then that waiter, Remy, dancing with her before Logan interrupted. Not that she cared much about their little tiff after he started to dance with her. It was one of those magical moments she read about in her novels. Those moments that were so perfect that nothing else existed except for the person she was with.

It was in no way truly right, what happened then. But it felt like it was, even when they touched skin to skin, though so brief an instant. Then the parting terms weren't the best. But nothing good can last, as she has found out through life. Her Father's orders would have to be ignored, at least to find out what happened to that girl. Plus, Marie couldn't shake the feeling that she had something to do with her reasoning for having to retire so early to her room. Which in turn would have contributed to her disappearance.

Thinking about it frightened her so. Someone had taken those girls, and the thought of someone evil like that being on the ship wasn't very comforting. It was bad enough when it was just Logan's twin. Unless he was the one that took them. No, she refused to think of that possibility. She refused to think of what could be happening to Amy and Jenn in the clutches of that evil, inconsiderate man.

A knock on the door reminded her of the tour. Marie quickly exited the room and walked with her family, barely noticing that Logan was once again back at duty looking out for her without her parent's knowledge.

Her father would have a meltdown if he saw him, so Marie kept the noticing to a minimal. All she wanted to do was go to him and ask if they found the girls and would he get some sleep. It was obvious he had pulled an all-nighter, which wasn't a good sign on the former question.

Robert introduced her and her mother to the cheerful and kind Thomas Andrews, the Master Shipbuilder of the wonderful ship they were traveling on. "A great pleasure to meet you both, young ladies," he declared with a faint Irish accent.

The ladies returned the pleasantries and waited the few minutes for Graydon to show. He did with a smile and a wave, his long coat blowing in the cool wind. He truly was a picture of a fine gentleman, someone that every girl dreamed of being a wife to. Except for Marie.

In fashion with older times, he greeted both of the women by way of kissing their hands. Irene blushed and laughed at Graydon, while Marie did the same, only not as convincing as her mother. She just had far too much on her mind to act the role she was supposed to play well.

With Andrews heading the group of tourists, they walked towards the bow of the ship to begin the tour at the bridge. On the way, he went on and on about how many tons of steel, wood, copper, etc., etc. were put into the ship. How many hands it took to piece it together, how many days. The different complications and last minute ideas, and the uniqueness of a few of the things.

"Why are there four funnels when you only use the three?" she could hear Graydon ask out of curiosity. From what she had heard, Graydon had made a name and money for himself by investing in many different material industries. The thought of wasting such precious material just for show was something rather alien to him.

"For both appearance and to solve the problem of getting rid of the smoke and steam caused by the kitchens. That is why during mealtime you will notice something coming out of it."

Mr. Andrews certainly did know every nook and cranny of the ship, why it was there, how it got there. Everything.

They met with the Captain, chatted for a brief while, and possibly went into every room they could on the tour. All the while, Andrews was asking his own questions and taking notes on what they thought.

What amazed Marie the most, was how Logan always managed to stay out of sight from the rest of the group. Even when they backtracked, it was like somehow he always knew where they were going, or could hear Mr. Andrews as he always said where they were heading next.

When they passed a strew of lifedoats, Andrews spouted figures about them as well. Irene's face scrunched up in puzzlement as she thought. "But... Mr. Andrews, are there not enough for everyone?"

Andrews young face saddened slightly, making him appear much older at that moment. "'Bout half, actually." He quickly spoke again so no one needed to inquire futher. "In fact, I installed these new type davits, which can take an extra row of boats inside of this one. But it was thought -- by some -- that the deck would look too cluttered. So I was over-ruled."

"That is inhumane!" her mother exclaimed in shock. "How can one over-rule the safety of the people?"

"I often wonder the very same thing, Mrs. Darkholme. But you can sleep soundly, I have built you a good ship, strong and true. She's all the lifeboats you need."

"At least if there is a problem, we know we'll be fine," Graydon tried to reassure Irene. Yet his statement only chilled Marie's blood more than anything previous had.

By the end, Marie's feet were killing her, her stomach wouldn't shut up as she had missed breakfast, and the knowledge about the lifeboats was rather unsettling to mix with her mother's precognition's. They had gone through everything, ranging from the Bridge to the Turkish Baths, the Grand Staircase to the Squash Court that was being used so they could watch a match. Since they had missed lunch, the group opted to head for the Café Parisian that would serve in between meals during the day.

The Café was small, but still had enough room to be comfortable. Many windows adorned one side so they ordered three tables to be placed closer together for them to all sit at. Immediately a waiter came out. One she recognized as Remy LeBeau.

Even though she couldn't see his eyes, she knew he had also stayed up all night searching for Amy at least. From what she was told, it was like love at first sight for the passenger and the crewmember. Even though society would greatly frown upon the two of them being together, they didn't seem to care. It was comforting in a way, to know that true love could reign supreme at times.

"You two are getting married?" Andrews asked with astonishment, breaking her out of her thoughts. "I hadn't known. Congratulations, both of you."

"Why, thank you, Mr. Andrews," Graydon said.

"Tell me, what do you all think of your rooms? Are they nice, beautiful, small? Anything at all, I would love to hear."

With hearty laughs all around, they helped the man with his questions to better the ship and further ones.

Still, Marie remained distant through the conversation, even when it turned back to the wedding. Her parents had planned everything, so she didn't need to answer any questions concerning it. Not even on what her gown would be like. The finest silk and lace with delicate rose petals planned on being woven into the whole thing in patterns the day before the ceremony.

Marie stifled a yawn at the boring conversation, praying for it to end so they could leave. She'd had her food, there was nothing more she wanted to do there, and feigning illness was beginning to stale fast. She had used it for every meal on the ship. Although, now that she thought about it, she could convey it to seasickness. It struck her right after eating. Yes, that explanation would do fine.

"Excuse me... But I believe I have a problem with ocean traveling and eating. May I be excused to go lay down?"

"You shall go straight to our quarters," her father ordered, but not too harshly, as there were others there.

Graydon got up and took her hand gently. "Allow me to escort you, my dear." Without waiting for her to answer, he bid the guests at the table good-bye and left with her beside him and hanging off his arm. "It saddens me to hear that this voyage is not as enjoyable as it should be for you."

"It is enjoyable enough, Mr. Creed. Just a little wooziness after eating will not ruin it for me."

"Please, my dear. Graydon. Remember, Graydon," he reminded her of their first meeting in which he asked for her to call him by his given name.

"Of course, I'm sorry. I forgot."

He smiled at her and lead her back to her quarters, only stopping once to chat with other passengers on the Grand Staircase. "Is there anything else you need?" he inquired of her at her door.

"No, thank you. That will be all."

With a bow, and another kiss to her hand, he left her in peace. She entered and prepared to truly greet her bed when a knocking on the door made her pause and backtrack.

"Marie, it's me. Open up."

Logan... Without hesitation, she allowed him to enter the room. "Shouldn't you be looking for the missing girls? I take it from your appearance that you have yet to find them."

Logan shook his head to stay awake and ran a hand through his unruly hair that was in desperate need of being brushed. "I did that last night. Didn't come up with anything, so I decided to go back to what I was doing before."

"Looking after me..."

"Yeah..."

"Has there been a ransom?"

"No. The Professor doesn't believe that's why they were taken."

Marie was about to ask why when she noticed just how bad Logan's situation was. He couldn't stand still on his own two feet, his body swayed heavily from side to side as if they were on a small boat instead of the largest ship in the world. He was trying his damnedest to stay awake, and failing miserably. "Logan... Come here."

Gently, she took his arm and herded him to her room. As much as she wanted to give him the bed, she wanted to sleep as well. And if she took the chair in the room, sleep would be impossible. Quickly, before he had the chance to pass out on her and make things that much more difficult, Marie shoved the comfort chair in her room to the back of the closed door and sat him down in it. She then placed the footstool with a few books on top to prop his feet up. As she did so the peaceful sound of his snoring assaulted her hearing.

Well... if you could call it snoring. To her, it was more like a gentle purring at the moment. Much that like a cat, only louder. A quick nap would do them both wonders of good, then the questions could be asked and answered while Marie didn't have to fear of someone walking in and seeing him there with his chair propped against the door.

Only allowing herself to peel off her jewelry, hair clips, gloves, and hard shoes, she snuggled beneath the covers and watched the man sleeping soundly across the room from her before she joined him in the peaceful slumbers.

April 14th, 1912
4: 33pm

The last thing he remembered was... Well, that was a toughie... If his dreams were any indication, the last thing he thought of was Marie... Sweet, perfect Marie.

Wait a minute... Marie? Nostrils blaring, he could smell her. She was close. One eye opened, then the other to reveal that he was scrunched down in a comfort chair with his legs on a stool. And Marie was sleeping soundly across the room in her bed. Odd thing was, he had absolutely no memory of getting there. Last thing was probably following her and her fiancé to her room.

What Logan wouldn't give to put the bastard out of their misery, and Marie's as well. She wasn't happy with him, Logan could tell that just by watching her during the tour. There was nothing there on her side of the betroth. And no more than a fancy and lust on his. No love, no true feelings. All it would take was one moment alone with him, and he'd be gone. Logan didn't think anyone would miss him.

Logan happily went over the many different ways to kill Graydon Creed when Marie mumbled something in her sleep and changed positions in bed. Her shift allowed for the covers to scrunch down to her waist, and her position allowed for quite an eyeful of her cleavage to be visible to Logan. The kind of thoughts and dreams he'd been having about a proper, white striped girl was in no way what he should be having. Hell, he'd take his usual nightmares over them.

Limbs ached in protest as he got to his feet and stretched, letting out a mighty yawn/growl. As if answering, Marie let out a sigh while still deep asleep. She looked so peaceful, so relaxed. Like one of those angel carvings decorating parts of the Grand Staircase. Only far more beautiful. No angel had anything on Marie, not even ones he saw in art museums.

Which made him wonder when the hell was he in an art museum to know that.

He was lost in thought when he noticed two chocolate eyes peering at him curiously. Marie's cheeks turned pink at having been caught staring. It wasn't nice or proper, after all. "Penny for your thoughts?" she asked softly, not trusting her voice any louder for fear of her parents being back.

"You don't want to know my thoughts," he replied just as softly, but his voice held concealed pain.

"I do... please..." she protested, moving herself into a seated position on the bed. "You seem to know much about me, and yet I know nothing of you."

"I'm not a person you'd want to know. I'm a... 'piece of gutter trash', as your father put it."

Marie gasped. "You heard that?"

Shit... he forgot about trying to conceal his abilities. "I've good hearing." Still, he refused to tell her anything more. Then her eyes got bigger... and darker... and that lower lip of hers stuck out... Dammit, she was pouting as only women of a high class could do. And she pulled it off without him wanting to laugh in her face.

"Alright!" he whispered harshly, just wanting her to turn off the pouty look. He pulled out the chair for the desk and sat beside her bed. "What do you want to know?"

The girl's expression was almost that of whenever Chuck or Red used their powers, only hers was far more focused as she pondered. "What about... Logan. That's all I know of your name."

"'Cuz that's all there is to it, darlin'. 'Bout fifteen years ago I woke up in the Canadian wilderness with no prior memory. I found a hunter's knife nearby with 'Logan' carved on the handle. It felt familiar to me, so I figured it was my name. Beyond a few flashes of my life before, I've still got nothin'."

"That's so horrible... What are those flashes?"

"I can't say. They aren't good things. I've worked as a hunter for most of my life. Traveling from place to place, searching for work. I met my current employers in some dive in the outskirts of London."

"A hunter... No wonder you have such keen senses."

It was odd how he never thought of using that as an excuse before for his senses. "Yeah..."

"You have a girl somewhere?"

He chuckled some to bid him debate time. Should he or shouldn't he tell her... Eh, she was going to be married anyways. "I'm the type of guy who had a girl in every place I came to. Whether or not we even understood each other's language."

"Oh..." she didn't seem disappointed by the news, more curious really. "Any that you still think about?"

"A few... Not many. One girl in Japan. Her name was Mariko. She's really the only one I think about. Taught me Japanese and a few of their styles of fighting, which has come in handy at times. They have such a... graceful way of fighting hand-to-hand combat."

Her eyes got that far away look she was prone to when going off into her own little world. "Hm... Sounds fascinating... To join the world of another culture, another society. Learn new and different and exciting things. I'd love to do that..." Those eyes suddenly become sad. "But it'll never happen."

"It could happen. If you want it badly enough, you can make it happen."

"I'm not like you, Logan... I have a place, a responsibility. A duty to be wed and become the perfect wife."

"A duty to waste your life on something and someone you don't want? To be shown off at parties like some prized possession and taken to the occasional bed when a pretty whore couldn't be found?" He got off his chair and sat next to her on the bed. "You aren't property, and you aren't bound as much as you think you are."

They sat in silence while she considered his words. Wanting more than anything to believe them. "Could you teach me some of the things you learned? Like that hand-to-hand combat?"

When she looked at him with those inhumanly large eyes of hers, how could he say no. "Sure... But it takes meditation first."

"Why? What does meditation have to do with fighting?"

"Not much if you were just learning how to deal with a barroom brawl, but that isn't what you asked," he said with his signature half-grin. "Meditation is the first thing you have to learn in Japanese fighting technique, and even other cultures. Honing the mind and body and spirit together is top priority before anything else."

"Show me?"

Grinning just a bit more, he got to his feet and moved some things out of his way to give him more space. The floor was carpeted, so he didn't have to worry about his boots making noise.

Marie's gaze was centered and focused completely onto Logan's frame as it stood there and relaxed when he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. With a few more deep breaths, his hazel eyes revealed themselves. Beginning with a bow, he recalled some of the most basic training moves he learned and performed them without hesitation or falter against an invisible foe.

"I understand now..." she whispered during his session. Had he not had advanced hearing, it would have gone missed. His performance was ended with the customary bow even though there was no higher master there to discipline him.

"You understand?" he inquired.

"Why the meditation is needed. You were right when you said it was graceful." She was so fascinated with what he had done -- given her a taste of another culture.

For the next ten minutes, he regaled her with tales from Japan and other foreign countries he had visited in the life he could remember. She remained enthralled with each and every one, hanging onto all the words that poured from his mouth.

Until his keen senses picked up the turning of her doorknob. Logan realized his error in moving furniture and not moving it back, for there was currently nothing to block the door.