Marie wasn't sure what made her more nauseous; the stench radiating from unwashed prisoners surrounding her, or the ever present reality that Logan, the man she loved, had abandoned her and her

friends...fed them to the dogs!

His betrayal had severely altered the way Marie saw people.

Until that point, she had, despite the mutant holocaust ruling her

life, found people to be generally good. A few small, inconsequential

pieces of information given to the public by an influential man in

time of need was bound to result in the swaying of their feelings

toward their mutant brethren. Masses had, since the dawn of time,

been seen as fickle groupings, ready to turn at the blink of an eye.

Wrapping her arms around her knees, Marie rested her chin on

them, attempting to look around the crowded box-car. There was no

light, save that which streamed through the roof through several tiny

slits. They served onto to provide enough ventilation to keep those

inside alive, and in several instances, they even failed at that.

At night, the darkness spilled in, covering everyone in a

thick cloud of black, so that if it weren't for the moaning agony

around her, she would think herself alone in this trechery. She tried

to keep her mind on more happy thoughts, straying as far from the

realization that she could well be dead come the end of the week as

humanly possible. Instead, she thought back to a time when all the X-

Men remained. Days when nothing threatened the world, and they were

free to lounge around the Mansion, often playing baseball, having

picnics, or just sitting alone in silence, reveling in the peace that

momentarily reigned over their lives.

Inevitably, however, her memories forced her back to the day

Logan left them. She'd woken up early and found the heat that was

usually against her missing. She thought she'd heard a door close,

but even now she wasn't sure if that was just her imagination. In the

end, she'd searched the entire area several times, not truly

believing that he would have just left. Still, there were only so

many places he could have been, and when he didn't turn up in any of

them, the truth had hit her hard.

The look on Bobby's face as she told the others was heartbreaking. He

had, as the leader, taken the responsibility onto his shoulders,

despite the fact that it was her urging that had caused him to give

in to allow Logan entrance into their safe haven. Somewhere, she

thought that, even if he were against them, their hospitality and

sense of family would affect him in some way. In the end, she made

them look like fools.

When they were dragged out into the streets, the thought of

escape had reached her mind at some point. An instant later, however,

she thought about the past year, the countless weeks of hiding away

in the attic. And despite knowing the horrors those captured faced,

it suddenly seemed better than escaping and being on the run again.

Knowing that no matter where you went, someone was close behind you,

watching your every move, waiting for you to mess up. She wanted to

be able to move without fearing that a board would creak and someone

would hear it and report her...

Logan was there when they were herded into a transport truck.

He was standing, hood pulled over his face to hide his presence to

them. Still, she'd spent enough time with him to know when he was

near. She had chanced a look at him for a moment, but he turned his

head away as though ashamed with himself for having done this to them.

Arnold Frank was separated from the X-Men. Marie didn't have

to wonder what happened to him...it was a known fact that anyone

housing a non-registered mutant was automatically charged with death

upon their arrest. For that reason, she kept her eyes on her feet as

they drove him away.



It all seemed like an eternity ago and, she thought, maybe it

was. Another lifetime ago, far from the one she was now faced with

having to live. Despite her condition, being locked away like an

animal, a faint chuckle rang through her as she wondered what Logan

was doing at that moment. She still cared about him, of course, even

though he'd thrown her to the wolves in a fit of self-pity. Her

laugh, growing louder by the moment, made her wonder if several days

in a cell with strangers, given only her future to contemplate, had

driven her to mad extremes.

A rough jab to her ribs finally made her fall silent.

Clutching her hands together tightly, she looked up at the roof of

the boxcar and, closing her eyes, prayed to God that her friends

would survive this. For if they didn't and she herself did, their

blood would rest forever on her hands...a fate even the strongest of

men couldn't handle guiltlessly.