Some names have been abbreviated.

Snoob:  See why I never put Remy and Marie together in my stories?  I like the guy – I really do – but he is an annoying womanizer.

Chaos:  Oh, the training session will be fun to write!

Blix:  I knew that!  AHH!  Stupid me!  I have it spelled correctly in all my other stories so why did I use a 'K' this time?  I'm a moron.

Hip-Ban:  Oh there'll be plenty of M/L.  Lol.  I can't help it!  I'm addicted!

Jupiter:  Thank you very much.  I'm updating as fast as I can!  I keep telling myself: "must keep typing, must keep typing…"

Sam:  Why thank you very much.  I'm glad you approve of the way I handled things.

Beanie:  Lol.  Your review cracked me up.  I'm a total L/R shipper, too (obviously).  It's like an addiction.

WantDreams:  Poor Marie is right.  Not only is she getting up at 6:30 but she has to be bossed around by Wolverine.  Lol.  That's enough to make me feel sorry for anyone.

Anime:  I've never heard of the expression "mad cool", but I must say that I like it.

Anonymous:  You're always so supportive.  Thank you!

Nikki:  Of course I'll do more!  (As long as I keep getting support)

Pine:  I love tension.  I thrive off it.  I NEED IT!  Anyway, the training session will be fun to write.

Lu:  It's ok.  Please read what I wrote to Blix up top.  Also, I was hesitant about putting in 'le' because I knew it meant "the".  However, in French, they put "the" all over the place and I get confused.  Lol.

Chapter Seven

Training 101

The shrill of her alarm clock sent Marie bolting up, her arm flinging her satin pillow off the bed.  With an angry curse, she slammed her fist against the "off" button.  It was too damn early.  Groaning in frustration, she flung her blankets aside and firmly planted her bare feet onto the Oriental rug.

She was dressed and out the door within minutes, pulling her auburn hair back into a tight ponytail.  She shuffled into the kitchen and made herself a cup of French Vanilla coffee.  Sipping away at the caffeine-induced drug, she wandered down into the gym, praying the caffeine would kick in soon and boost her energy.

"You're late," Wolverine barked from behind her.

Marie jumped, dropping her nearly empty mug.  It crashed to the floor, ceramic blue pieces spewing across the wooden gym floor joined by light-brown drops that had once been her coffee.  Rogue clenched her teeth and whirled around.  "By five minutes," she snapped.

"Late is late, Rouge.  Your slacking could cause someone their life."  Wolverine moved around her, stiffly pointing towards the track that encircled the entire large room.  "Warm up with a mile sprint while I clean up your mess."

Rogue's mouth dropped open.  "You call that a warm-up?  Warm-ups are stretches and jumping jacks and…"

"Look, kid, this ain't high school.  If you want to join the team then you need to be in top physical condition.  Now run."

Rogue gave a harsh sigh as she stomped over to the track to begin her run.  "How many times around is a mile?"

"Twelve," Wolverine yelled back as he bent down to pick up the broken pieces of the mug.

Rogue rolled her eyes and took off.

--

Sweat trickled down her back and pooled between her breasts.  Her hair clung to her neck like seaweed.  Her leg muscles screaming, she collapsed onto the floor, heaving with exertion.  A shadow fell over her shaking body and she glared up at her instructor.  "That was no mile," she huffed.

"You're right.  It was two miles.  Now get up.  You'll never catch your breath that way."

Marie battled the urge to flop her head onto the floor and instead staggered to her quivering feet.  This was stupid of her.  She should have gotten up earlier and had a healthy, nutritious breakfast.  She was running on a single cup of coffee and felt ready to keel over. 

"Do I need to dig a six feet pit and roll your corpse into it," Wolverine bellowed.  He grabbed her arms and raised them over her head.  "Quit slouching: you're only constricting the airway."

Rogue rolled her sea-green eyes.  His fingers clasped around her wrists reminded her that she wasn't dead or having a horrid nightmare.  This was it.  This was her life: trapped in an endless cycle of one dreadful decision after another.  If only she had run away when she first found out about her curse.  But no, she had stayed in that crummy town, went to the community college, and then began working as a secretary at the police station.  And then Cody had showed up as a cop, forcing her to be a consultant: going to those gruesome crime scenes and stealing the memories of the dead.  That's when she'd met Bobby.

The pressure around her wrists released and Wolverine tilted his head towards the mats.  "Time to get your ass kicked," he sneered.

Rogue, grumbling, followed him towards the blue mats.  She stood in front of him, waiting for her orders, which – no doubt – would be screamed at her.  Yet, to her surprise, the big bad wolf gently took her hand, placing it lightly against his hard chest just below the nook of the ribs.

"Here," he said hoarsely, "is a point of attack.  If you can break some ribs then you'll have the upper hand."  He removed her hand, replacing it tenderly around his neck.  "If you're fighting a male, aim for the Adam's apple.  A swift, hard blow will leave him temporarily distorted and possibly breathless.  It would be best to use the side of your hand."

"I know all this," Marie murmured.  "I've taken self-defense classes.  What I need to learn is martial arts."

"You have to have the basics before you can move on," Logan reasoned, releasing her hand.  "I have to test you on this and if I feel you can do it, then we'll start the real training." 

He brought both his hands around her neck, squeezing softly.  "Usually someone will grab your throat like this, shaking you back and forth.  Let him pull you in," Logan delicately pulled her against him, breathing heavily.  "Then when he starts to push you away, take your left foot and plant it as far back as you can."  He used his leg to nudge hers back.

Marie found her self twisted, her side to his chest.  She peered up at him, her heart beating rapidly.  "Now what," she asked.

"Swing your right arm up and over my arms.  Imagine that you're trying to touch your left hip.  Bend and twist at the same time."

Marie followed his instructions, and Logan dropped his arms.  He nodded.  "This normally will be enough to break his hold.  Yet, continue by making a fist."  He clasped his fingers around hers, balling her hand into a fist.  "Bend your elbow and – since your body is still twisted – whirl around and slam the bent elbow into the face or throat of your attacker.  The best spots to aim for are the eyes, the nose, or the nook just below the neck."  He followed her arm through, holding onto her and showing her the moves.

Marie shook her head.  "But you're so much taller than me."

"That's not a problem.  If your attacker is too tall then straighten your elbow a little and make the strike with your fist.  Now, your goal is to tear his head off.  Carry through with the strike, allowing your body to twist around.  You will once again be set up for a powerful strike."

Marie nodded.  "Ok."

Logan stepped back.  "Now try it.  Use all your force."  He rushed forward and grabbed her neck.

Marie followed through, twisting around and smashing her elbow into his nose.  The sickening sound of bones cracking jolted her and she flung her hand over her mouth.  "Oh my God.  I'm so sorry.  I didn't mean to…"

Wolverine pounced on her, sending her crashing to the ground.  Straddling her, he grabbed her arms and pinned them over her head.  "Never, ever, stop fighting," he roared.  "You're dead now!  Dead!  Do you understand me?  You quit and now the attacker as you pinned…he'd probably tear you to shreds!"

Marie, trembling in fear and shock, swallowed.  Her eyes were wide and filled with terror.  The man glowering down at her wasn't Logan.  The furious man hovering over her could easily become the heartless murderer Stryker had portrayed him as.  This was the true face of Wolverine.

"Please," she whispered.  "You're hurting me."

"You can't feel pain!  You're dead!"

Marie shivered at the ice in his amberish-hazel eyes.  "But I'm not dead.  It was practice."  She bit her lower lip.  "Please, stop.  You're hurting me."

Wolverine's face relaxed and he climbed off of her.  He faced away from her as she crawled shakily to her feet.  "We'll continue this afternoon.  Three o'clock."  He marched away, never looking back.

Marie watched him storm away, rubbing at her – soon to be bruised – wrists and not feeling the slightest hint of bitterness even though she had every right to be angry.  In truth, she felt sympathy for Logan.  But that didn't mean that Wolverine was off the hook.

End Chapter Seven

AHHH!!  So what do you all think?