Pine: drums fingers on the desk Mmmm…yep! That's the plan. Let's see if they cooperate.
Snoob: And he will!
Blix: I don't mind if you're a nit-pick. It forces me to write better! Anyway, it was supposed to be her fist hitting the metal, but Rogue doesn't know that the adamantium is in his nose, too. She was assuming it were bones cracking. Sorry I wasn't clear on that.
Beanie: EEK! Don't poke me! I'm updating, I'm updating!
Vyktorya: I wrote you an e-mail response to this. Yet, I wouldn't want you thinking that I forgot about you. big smile
Chaos: Lol. I'll see what I can do.
Hip-Ban: My fingers are getting cramped by all the typing. Lol.
Cassandra: Hey, it's ok. I won't hold it against you. Lol.
WantDreams: I did do it on purpose. big smile I'm glad you caught on. For that, I will share with you my chocolate pudding.
Anonymous: Are you speaking for the whole group? Lol. Thanks so much for the motivation!
Jo: And you got to keep in mind that in the movie, he met Marie when she was a teenager. In my story, they don't meet until she's 25. Who knows what he's been through in that missing time? Yet, I'm glad to see that you understand why I didn't make his character all charming and sweet: because in reality, he really is a hard ass. But you gotta love him!
NOTE: Keira belongs to me.
Chapter Eight
The Softer Side of Cruel
Part One
Marie kept to her self, locked away in her room and only coming out for lunch. She slipped into the cafeteria, cringing at the sight of the hundred or so students scattered across the large room: a large room that didn't look much like a high school cafeteria at all. In fact, it looked as if they had converted a ballroom – tapestries, large bay windows, elegant paintings, live plants, and all – into a makeshift cafeteria.
Marie scrutinized an enchanting painting of Stonehenge hung adorningly by the large mahogany doors. It was gracefully created with blue, gray, and violet watercolors. It left her feeling mystified and soothed.
A loud clatter forced her to tear her gaze away, landing on a young child off to the right. The girl – who could've been no more than seven – stared at the wooden floor in horror. She had dropped her tray, her chicken noodle soup, Caesar salad, and Mickey Mouse shaped ice cream bar strewn across the floor. A couple of her older classmates snickered, no one coming to her aid.
Marie sighed, making her way toward the girl, but halted in her tracks when Logan came out of nowhere. He knelt down, scooping up the child's lunch and discarding it in the trashcan. He patted the girl's back, murmuring for her to go and get another lunch. Then he turned towards the lunch tables, snarling. "It was nice that you were all so helpful," he barked snidely.
A few of the students closest to him coward away, keeping their eyes glued to their plates in the hopes that Wolverine wouldn't focus on them. The X-man wouldn't be deterred. He growled at them anyway, his fists clenching at his sides. "If you can't learn to help each other then you shouldn't be here."
He took a moment to the scan the room with his hardened hazel eyes. "I'm writing you all up."
No one dared to groan, knowing it would only mean an extra ten minutes on the track next gym class.
Wolverine grunted, stiffly marching away, heading straight for her. He hadn't noticed her yet, and Marie considered fleeing, but then his eyes flashed sharply to the left, landing dead center on her face. Marie swallowed hard, fidgeting under his harsh gaze like a child about to be scolded. He stepped within a foot of her, staring at her, his expression slightly softening. "Damn these brats," he grumbled.
Marie cracked a grin. "Oh, but Mister Tough Guy has a soft spot for the littlest ones. I take it you got stuck with lunch patrol?"
He grunted again. He hated being lunch monitor. Yet, he had to admit that when he was on duty, no one messed around.
Marie watched as the little girl from before came back towards the tables, her hands clutched tightly around her tray in fear of dropping it again. "Who is she," Marie asked softly.
Logan followed her gaze, staring at the child with…what? Sympathy? No, Marie thought. Wolverine doesn't have a sympathetic bone in his body.
"Keira. Six years old." Logan shook his head sorrowfully, his eyes melting into a fatherly protective gaze as he continued to watch the little girl eat her ice cream.
"What," Marie probed. "Is there something wrong with her?"
Logan sighed, tearing his eyes away to look at the woman before him. "She's cursed more than most."
Marie raised her eyebrow, urging him to go on.
"She sees death," he whispered. He shook himself out of it, blocking her with his steel wall. "Look, I've got to keep an eye on these kids. I'll see you at three o'clock."
"Well, actually, I was going to get something to eat. What's for lunch?"
Logan appeared conflicted about something for a moment before jerking his head towards the doors. "The teachers have their own lounge. It's just down the hall." Then he was gone, stalking towards a group of boys who were displaying their powers, attempting to impress a girl.
Marie walked out, her mind whirling at what she had witnessed. Wolverine apparently wasn't completely heartless. It was obvious Keira had touched a place in him that he normally kept well guarded. It made Marie curious. What was so special about the girl who saw death?
Part Two
Has three o'clock was winding closer, Marie raced towards the gym, hell-bent on not being late. She didn't want to be on the end of Wolverine's wrath, especially after their conversation in the cafeteria. He seemed to be finally warming up to the idea of her being around. She didn't want to screw that up.
She burst through the doors, coming to a screeching stop when her eyes fell on the scene before her. On the mats, Logan was bare-chested and sweaty, but that wasn't what caught her attention. It was the person on the mat with him: Keira. The young child was peering up at the gruff man with admiration and open awe as she listened intently to his instructions.
Logan then lowered the punching bag that was between them, telling the little girl to try it. "Now do what I did," he encouraged, his deep voice gentle. He watched her a moment and then – without looking at Marie – said more sternly: "Warm up. Two miles."
Marie began her laps, repeatedly glancing towards the mats where Logan continued to coach the child. By the time she had run around the track twelve times, Keira was heading out the door. Marie came up beside Logan, panting. "Is she yours," she huffed.
Logan snapped his head towards her in defiance. "Hell no. I wouldn't know what to do with a kid. I just…she's the youngest kid here and doesn't fit in with the older gym classes. So, I teach her one-on-one."
"How long as she been here?"
"Two years. Now enough dicking around. We've got a lot to do." Logan turned around and raised the punching bag back to its original position.
Marie yanked off her long-sleeved shirt to reveal a black tank-top underneath. She threw it aside, kicking off her shoes before stepping onto the mat.
Logan looked her way. "You ever use one before," he inquired, indicating the punching bag.
Marie shrugged. "Once or twice."
Logan nodded, his eyes falling on her wrists. He suddenly looked uncomfortable and slightly regretful. Marie glanced down and saw what he saw: ugly bruises shaped like handprints encircled her wrists. Things were starting to get real uneasy and Marie felt the air seeping out of the room.
"Um," Logan tapped the punching bag. "Let's see what you can do. We'll go from there."
Marie nodded, bringing her hands up into tight fists, wincing as the movement brought sharp pains to her wrists. She tried covering it up with a cough, but she suddenly felt Logan's presence beside her. She refused to look at him, her angry from earlier resurfacing.
Logan tenderly touched the bruise on her left wrist and she twitched. "I'm sorry," he murmured. He dropped his hand, shifting his weight. "Why don't we do this in a couple days?"
"No," Marie protested. "I'm all ready here. We might as well…"
"Logan," a timid voice intervened.
Both adults whipped around. Logan seemed relieved by the intrusion. "What is it, Keira?"
The little girl peeked up from under her eyelashes, glancing nervously at Marie before settling her gray eyes on Logan. "I've seen her death," she murmured.
Logan slowly walked towards her, kneeling down to be level with the child. "Whose death," he asked warmly.
Keira glanced again at Marie. "Hers."
End Chapter Eight
Dun, dun, dun…gasp Oh no!
