Twelve Years Later
When Logan looked at her, he had to fight to keep his brow from furrowing in concern. She was still so young, his Marie, too young to look as she did now: tired, unhappy, depressed. Usually she was so happy to see him that she managed to shed her grim visage for a happier one, but today even the sight of his gruff expression and weathered leather jacket hadn't been enough to bring a smile to her face. She had simply stared at him for a long moment, the door open just wide enough for her to see his face, then wordlessly opened it further to allow him to slip inside.
"No hug?" His joking tone had earned an empty glance from her, and that was when he really began to worry. "Marie…"
She was beautiful, his Marie, beautiful but broken. Her fine features, her honey-brown eyes would have been attractive on their own, but surrounded as they were by the white shock of hair that framed her heart-shaped face they seemed almost other-worldly. She wore simple but elegant clothing, usually dark and flattering colors.
"Why are you here, Logan?" she asked flatly, crossing her arms over her chest defensively as she watched him warily from her position across the room.
He tried to suppress the hurt that filled him at her words. "C'mon, kid," he said, "you knew I'd be coming back. You're usually happy to see me."
"'Usually' is a strong word to use when you've come to see me all of three times in the past four years," she said sharply. "It's been two years since I last saw you, Logan. You're a fool if you think nothing's changed in that time."
"What's happened?" he asked. He went to her kitchen and grabbed a beer, guzzling it quickly and then grabbing another. He wondered how much money she spent each year buying enough beer to keep her refrigerator fully stocked for him, since he was well aware that she didn't drink the stuff herself. The beer told him that no matter how angry she was with him she wasn't angry enough that he was unwelcome.
"Asia is dead," she said, pushing a strand of white hair out of her face in one of her signature nervous gestures. Even in her grief, her hard eyes made it clear that she wasn't looking for his sympathy. If he had wanted to offer that, he was several years too late. "Sky's been captured by Stryker. I've been working on getting the others out of the country, but it's only a matter of time until they find us."
"Why didn't you tell me?" I would have come, would have tried to help. At least, he thought he would have. He was no one's idea of a hero, but usually he could be counted on in a pinch.
"Your cell phone was disconnected," she said tersely. "Your drop box went unchecked."
Logan knew that if she had really wanted to find him, really been desperate for his help, there were ways she could have located him. She had informants everywhere and other means of locating people that he knew nothing about. The point wasn't that she couldn't find him. The point was that he had made it seem as if he didn't want to be found.
"I'm sorry, kid," he said.
"I'm not a kid, Logan. It's been a long time since I snuck onto your truck for a ride. I've grown up; you haven't."
"What are you doing to make sure you're safe?" he asked, refocusing on the important issues and avoiding meeting her eyes. "When are you leaving?"
"Not till everyone else is out," she said, looking away. Her profile was elegant, refined. The lines at the corners of her eyes hadn't been there the last time he'd seen her.
"Marie..." His tone was reproving.
"This whole mess can still be a success, Logan," she replied to his unspoken objection. "We've gotten a lot of people out, and the community has been set up. If we can get the rest of the organization out unscathed—or nearly so—then we'll have done all that we set out to achieve."
"And in the meantime, Stryker will have you to experiment on," Logan growled out in frustration. He clenched his fists, welcoming the cleansing pain as the blades sliced out through his skin. She didn't flinch at the sound or the sudden sight of the sharp, gleaming metal.
"Stryker doesn't frighten me," she said, and her naiveté reminded him that she was only twenty years old.
"Don't be stupid," he said fiercely. He restrained himself from slashing out with his claws. She allowed him to extend them in her home, but she might react differently if he shredded her only couch. "What, do you think that because you've suffered before nothing can hurt you now? If Stryker gets his hands on you, Marie, he'll suck you dry. You know it. He'd cut off your skin and force you to absorb more people and in the end you'd be a mindless shell or a shell with so many minds that it bursts."
"What do ya want me to do?" she demanded, her Southern twang coming out as her face flushed in anger. "Do you want me to turn my back on the people who trust me? Want me to abandon everything I've fought for all these years?"
"I want you to go somewhere where you'll be safe," he snarled.
"Like where?"
Uh-oh. She had that infuriating, stubborn expression on her face that told him that she was going to need a lot more convincing than he hoped.
"What about Xavier's?" he asked. "From everything you've told me, I'm sure he'd take you in again. You could hide out there until it's time to go."
"I haven't seen Xavier in twelve years, Logan," she said incredulously. "What, you want me to show up on his doorstep and say, 'here I am, the girl who's responsible for you bein' paralyzed'?"
"Kid, I really doubt he blames you for what happened." They'd had this argument too many times already. One of the results of Marie having so many voices running around in her head was that she had an unbelievably strong guilt complex. Or maybe that was just a natural part of Marie. Seeing her expression, he held up his hands in surrender. "Okay, okay. What about…you know who?" He couldn't quite bring himself to say the man's name, but they both knew who he was talking about.
Marie shot him a strange look. "You really have been out of the loop, haven't you, sugar? He's been in jail for nearly a year. They caught him trying to change all the world's leaders into mutants." Her voice was flat.
"Are you okay about that?" he asked carefully. That man had always been a sore point between them, mostly because Logan would have really liked to find the man and rend him limb from limb but knew that the evil mutant's powers would have defeated him in moments.
"It was a stupid way to get caught," she said, sidestepping his question. "He should have known that his calculations were off. And he should never have based all of his expectations on one failed experiment."
"Marie, I'm beggin' ya darlin', go to Xavier's. You know he won't blame you for what happened. I'll stay with ya, until it's time to go. I promise."
"I've been let down by you so many times, Logan," she said tiredly. He held his breath. She sighed heavily. "What's once more? If they say a single word about not wanting me there, we're going to leave immediately."
"Deal," he said instantly. "How long do you need to pack?"
A wry twist to her lips that might have been a smile, she gestured to a backpack that laid against one wall. "I felt you coming a mile away, Logan," she said simply. His jaw dropped open. "I knew you'd convince me to go with you."
"Then, why make me…"
His confusion was worth it, since it brought an almost-amused expression to her face. "It's always nice to see you beg, darlin'," she drawled out in a very good impression of Logan himself. She turned away from him to grab her bag, putting a little swing into her hips just to distract him.
He felt a grin form on his own face as he followed her to the door, leaving the decrepit apartment behind. It had taken longer than usual, but he had gotten her to smile.
The drive to Xavier's mansion was quick and comfortable. Logan had never been there before, but he'd memorized its location in case he ever actually managed to convince Rogue to return. She clung to him on the motorcycle, her wiry strength easily keeping her balanced. He wondered what it would be like to spar with her now, after so long apart, and found that he was looking forward to it.
He wondered why he had been gone so long this time and realized that he didn't really know. Surely he could have dropped by, stayed for a few days here and there, even left a phone message just to let her know that he was still alive. He hoped that the real reason for his long absence wasn't as shallow as he thought it was—that it was so nice to be missed that he stayed away longer and longer just to see the severity of her reaction when she saw him again. It wasn't possible that he could be so perversely cruel to the one person he cared about in the world, was it?
His suggestion that they go to Xavier's was his way of atoning, and of making sure that he could keep an eye on her while she was around. Somehow this slip of a girl had wormed her way into his heart, taking up position as sister and daughter, friend and sometimes even mother. Theirs was a bizarre relationship, and never failed to confuse him.
The drive from her apartment in Chicago to New York was a long one, but other than a restroom break they didn't stop for the entire trip. Now and then Logan felt Marie brush her hand across his face or neck for a moment, absorbing enough of his powers to stay alert and strong.
They had met five years ago, when Marie had been a haunted, desperate waif of a thing and he had been a rugged, no good cage fighter. Neither of them had changed much since then. Marie had a bit more meat on her bones now, perhaps, and a confidence in the way she tilted her head that she had lacked, and Logan had a bit more compassion in him. She had been playing the piano for tips in a run-down bar on the outskirts of New York proper, a place she shouldn't even have been legally allowed into, and he had shown up as a cage fighter. For some reason or another she had decided that he was the one on whose truck she would stow away, and it hadn't been until he had driven nearly thirty miles that he realized that he had gained a passenger.
He would always be grateful to whatever higher powers actually existed that he hadn't just kicked her out of the truck and driven away. Instead, in a moment of rare generosity he had allowed her to remain, and when he had seen her meager pile of money he had even volunteered to pay for her half of the hotel room they reluctantly agree to share. It had two beds, at least, which had been a requirement from both of them.
He still got a certain amount of amusement out of remembering his surprise when, in the midst of one of his usual nightmares, he had felt a hand on his shoulder, and, panicking, had unleashed his claws and skewered Marie as if she were a shish kabob. His shock had been palpable when, instead of quietly dying, she had reached out an unsteady hand and placed it against the side of his face, and, before his very eyes, had begun to heal.
That had been the beginning of a friendship that, if not beautiful, was at least strong and mutual and much needed by them both.
It was dark by the time they reached the mansion, and they parked the motorcycle some distance away when it was clear to them that they were not the only ones coming to visit the mansion at this late hour.
"Shit," Logan muttered under his breath. All those years of trying to get her to go back to Xavier's, and when he finally succeeded, he just had to be bringing her to danger rather than rescuing her from it. "We need to get outta here, darlin'."
From the look she shot him, he knew, just knew, what she was going to say. "Don't be an idiot, Logan," she said. "We can't just leave! It's a school under attack!"
"Not our problem," he insisted. "I was bringing you here to protect you, not to get you into even more trouble."
Her eyes narrowed. "What, you brought me here hoping they'd help me but not expecting me to help them in return? You know me better than that."
He grimaced. "Yeah. I do." The sound of his claws springing out seemed to slice through the night air, and with a growl he took off running for the gated entrance, knowing that Rogue was right behind him. It was always a comfort to him knowing that even if he let her down time and again his voice was always in her head, guiding her and making sure that she didn't do anything too dangerous. He could trust that she knew how to handle herself in a fight, for example.
They ascended the fence and dropped down silently, Marie landing with a graceful flip that told him that she'd found some new people to teach her stealth since he'd last seen her. They snuck their way past some of the intruders, Logan tearing them down with slashes of his deadly claws, and then they were inside the school.
"Where's Xavier?" Logan demanded.
Marie frowned, shaking her head. "Trust me, Logan, if he were here right now, we'd know about it." She hesitated, then nodded once to herself, as if coming to a decision about something. "You take this floor," she ordered. "There's an evacuation tunnel down the left hallway, behind a picture of George Washington. Hopefully the students are already escaping that way. I'll check the upstairs to make sure no one's been left behind."
"Too risky," he said. "You take this floor, I'll check upstairs."
"This place is like a maze, Logan," she snapped, frustrated. "You'd never find your way around. It has to be this way."
He hesitated.
"Go," she said, and he went. He trusted her judgment, after all, even if it did tend to place her into far more peril than he liked.
As she'd predicted, there was a steady file of children making their way into the tunnel, and Logan rushed forward, ears pricked for any out-of-place sound. One of the older boys, a handsome young man, glared suspiciously at him. "Who are you?" he asked, trying to be menacing as he held up his hand threateningly. A ball of ice spun slowly in front of his palm, clearly ready to be thrown.
"The name's Wolverine," Logan said. "I'm here to help."
The boy hesitated, clearly wanting to trust him. At last, he must have decided that he had no choice, because he said, "I'm Bobby. You can call me Iceman."
Logan managed not to snicker at the name. Barely. "Well, Iceman, I need you to keep evacuating the kids. I'm going to make sure no one comes near us."
As he spoke, he tilted his head back, sniffing a little as a sharp odor intruded on his senses. He grinned, looking more than a little feral. "Game time."
It took only a matter of seconds to dispatch with the two soldiers—he would have felt a great deal more guilt if they hadn't been bearing arms against a bunch of kids—but it was enough to get his adrenaline pumping. He turned back to Bobby with a grin.
"Woah." The kid looked impressed. Or was that disturbed? Then he shouted, "Look out!" and flung his hand forward, sending ice streaming towards a much larger group of soldiers. He frowned in concentration as he slowly built up a wall of ice, impeding the soldiers' progress.
"Nice," Marie's voice came from behind them, and Logan turned to see her standing behind him, not even breathing hard as she ushered several delinquent children through the door into the tunnel.
"How'd you get here so fast?" Logan demanded, although he suspected he knew.
She shrugged. "There's like two corridors on each floor. It was a pretty easy search."
"You lied to me?" he asked, shocked.
She smirked a little, then looked past him, her eyes widening, and Logan spun around just in time to see one of the soldiers point a tranquilizer gun at Bobby and pull the trigger. He gave a startled cry and fell back, a dart protruding from his shoulder and his eyes already beginning to glaze over. Logan watched in dread as the ice wall began thinning almost immediately. Then Marie lunged forward, grabbing Bobby's wrist tightly in her bare hand and flinging her free hand toward the ice wall, using Bobby's power to build it back up. Its progress was only slightly slower than when Bobby himself had been constructing it, and within moments the corridor was sealed tightly. Marie let go of the other mutant as soon as the wall was completed. Logan could barely make out Stryker's face from the other side of the partition, but he could tell from the man's furious expression that he knew just who had foiled his plans.
"Woah," Bobby said once more, eyes wide with surprise, and then he passed out.
Logan and Marie exchanged a quick glance, then he swung the unconscious mutant over his shoulder and gestured to the tunnel. "You first, darlin'."
She rolled her eyes, then hurried in, waiting until Logan closed the door behind them. Another boy, about Bobby's age, was waiting for them in the tunnel, and he lit a lighter and formed a small ball of fire in his hand to light the way. His handsome face looked vaguely malevolent in the unsteady light of the fire. Before they left, Marie turned back to the entrance of the tunnel with a wicked grin and used the last of the power she had taken from Bobby to coat the front of it with a thick layer of ice. A great deal of it might have melted by the time the soldiers got through, but there should be enough left to cause a bit of mayhem.
"Where does this tunnel lead?" she asked the boy, who frowned at being spoken to in such a manner but relented when he saw Logan's menacing expression from behind her.
"Out into the woods. Theoretically, there's supposed to be someone there to meet us, but considering that all the professors seem to have disappeared, I wouldn't be too sure."
Marie frowned. "Let's go."
It was a long walk through the tunnel, not least because everyone was on edge. At last they emerged into the woods, into the midst of a small group of young, frightened mutants. Before she had even finished clearing the exit Marie pulled her cell phone out of some hidden pocket, rapidly dialing in a series of numbers. At Logan's expression she explained, "I have a contact living close to here. She should be able to take most of these children over the border." She spoke quickly to the person who answered on the other end, then hung up. "Fifteen minutes," she told Logan crisply.
They shepherded the younger mutants into a protective circle, with Pyro, Marie, and Logan standing prepared for anything while they waited.
"Who are you?" Pyro demanded, nervously flicking his lighter on and off.
"I'm Rogue, and this is Wolverine," Marie replied. Her eyes narrowed as he continued his nervous action. "Quit that, will you?" she hissed. "You're going to attract attention with that light."
He sneered at her but ceased.
"Where is the Professor?" Marie asked. "Why did he leave you kids alone?"
"We're not kids," Pyro said, offended. "The Professor went with Cyclops to see Magneto earlier today, and we haven't heard from him. Dr. Grey and Storm went looking for a mutant in the X-Jet. They trusted us to take care of ourselves for a few hours. How do you know the Professor, anyways?"
"I lived here for a little while, a long time ago," she said vaguely. "He wouldn't have left you without some means of contacting help. Did he give ya a special cell phone or something?"
"Maybe," Pyro said obstinately.
"John." Bobby's voice came from behind them. He sounded groggy but otherwise all right, and staggered forward to join them in the clearing. He shot Marie an odd look, making Logan wonder just how much he remembered from before he passed out. "Give them the phone, will you?"
Grumbling, Pyro handed it over, and Marie quickly located the large red "Panic" button. It looked like Pyro must have pressed it earlier, and it was a relief knowing that help from the X-Men should be coming soon. As if to spite them, he pulled his lighter back out and started flipping it again.
With a decidedly Logan-like growl, Marie stretched her hand forward, and the lighter sprung from Pyro's grip to her own. She raised an eyebrow when he turned a furious expression on her, and Logan thought he saw a hint of new respect in the kid's eyes. If only Pyro knew.
At last the sound of a running motor reached their ears, and an RV pulled to a lumbering stop in front of their hiding spot. The door opened and a young woman stepped out, her eyes glowing green in the darkness. "Rogue?" she called out.
Marie and Logan stepped from their hiding place and the two women quickly embraced. They ushered the mutants into the large vehicle and began driving away. "Where to?" the woman asked.
Marie didn't hesitate. "I need you to take the kids over the border, but Logan and I need to find the Professor and the X-Men. There's somethin' very wrong here."
"We're staying with you," Bobby asserted.
"Yeah." Pyro's expression was defiant.
Marie and Logan exchanged another glance. She sighed, looking away, and Logan turned toward them, his expression a fearsome thing. "If we let you come, you're going to follow our orders to the letter, do you understand me? I won't let you get either of us killed by being stupid."
They nodded quickly, as if afraid the invitation would be revoked. "We can go to my house to wait for Dr. Grey and Storm," Bobby volunteered. "It's nearby."
A little under an hour later they were dropped off at the suburban house, and Marie gave the woman another hug goodbye and a quiet admonishment to be careful before the RV drove away, the small group of mutants in tow.
"They'll be okay," Marie reassured Pyro, who scowled at having been caught looking mildly worried. She handed him his lighter, and he snatched it from her hand.
Bobby's family turned out to be less welcoming than they'd hoped, not taking the news of his mutancy very well. Logan could tell that Marie, like him, was just waiting for the other shoe to drop. When the police cars showed up outside, he knew that it had.
"Right now would be a really good time for that jet to come," he muttered. His claws had come out almost without him meaning for them to, and when he stepped on the porch he saw every weapon swing toward him.
"Put the knives down," someone barked through a loudspeaker.
He grimaced, feeling Marie come up beside him and knowing that the other two kids had probably joined them. "I can't," he told the police slowly, retracting the claws as he did so. Of course, they couldn't just accept that, and the next thing he knew he was flat on his back, shaking his head as his mutation pushed a bullet out of his skull. "Ugh," he grunted.
Noises that sounded suspiciously like disaster attracted his attention, and he groaned when he sat up and saw that Pyro had flung a fireball at one police car and was preparing to do the same to another. Fortunately for them all, Marie was very good at keeping her head in a crisis—after all, wasn't that one of the reasons he liked her so much?—and she latched onto Pyro's ankle, pulling his power from him and using it to calm the raging fires.
Then, to add mayhem to mass confusion, the X-Jet arrived, settling down among the terrified humans and opening up to allow the mutants on board. Logan slung Pyro over his shoulder, and Marie urged Bobby to hurry. As they rushed to the rescue vehicle, Logan shouted, "I'm beginning to understand why you thought they might not want you around, darlin'!" At her glare, he quickly said, "Just kiddin'."
They quickly climbed aboard, and as the door swung shut they were airborne. Logan was the last to climb aboard, right after Marie, so he had the best view of her interaction with one of the mutants who had been flying the plane.
"Jean?" Marie asked, a smile forming on her face that was more open than Logan was accustomed to seeing.
Jean blinked in confusion. Then her eyes opened wide in shock. "Marie?" she asked.
"Hey, sugar," Marie said. "Thanks for the ride."
"But—but—" The beautiful woman's stutter was cut off by a sudden shout from the front.
"Jean, get up here!" an accented voice spoke. "We have trouble!"
Marie and Logan hurried up after her, passing Bobby and Pyro, who were both strapped into their seats, and a small blue man with strange carvings all over his body—Logan decided he didn't want to know, shaking his head as he ran by.
"What is it?" Jean was asking, leaning over the empty pilot's chair as she stared at the radar screen. The other seat was occupied by an African-American woman with white hair who was staring fixedly at the screen as she piloted the aircraft.
"They've fired two missiles at us," the other woman, who must have been Storm, replied tightly. "I'm trying to evade, but I could use some help here." To emphasize her words, she twisted the steering wheel, sending Jean, Logan, and Marie off-balance but dodging one of the missiles. She looked up. "Jean?"
The other woman wasn't listening to her words, however, an intense expression on her face as she concentrated on something Logan was sure he couldn't comprehend. They watched in amazement on the radar as one of the missiles suddenly disappeared, presumably destroyed by the power of her mind.
"I can't get the other one," she gasped out, sinking into one of the chairs as she pressed her hand against her forehead. Logan felt an urge to comfort her but restrained himself. He'd always been a sucker for a pretty woman.
"Marie?" Logan asked.
She frowned. "I'll try." She leaned against him, trusting him to keep her upright as she closed her eyes. He knew how difficult it was for her to intentionally access the parts of her mind she preferred to leave untouched. A bead of sweat formed on her forehead and her features became pinched. They watched on the radar screen as the remaining missile wavered in its course. "I…can't…" she ground out, and then she seemed to lose control over the missile and it surged forward at the last second, she cried out, "No!" and with what appeared to be an almighty push of her mind she forced the missile of course, and it nudged the wing of the jet, rocking everyone where they stood or sat, and then exploded harmlessly a few hundred yards away. She collapsed into Logan's arms, breathing heavily.
Logan looked down at her in concern until she sent him a tired smile to reassure him. He looked up into Jean's eyes and saw that she was staring at the younger mutant in shock. "What?" he asked.
"Telepathy was not one of Marie's powers," Jean replied slowly.
Pushing herself off of Logan, Marie opened her mouth to explain when the jet gave an almighty lurch, sending her flying off her feet. She crawled to one of the walls, holding on tightly. The mutants stared wildly at each other as the jet began to descend steadily.
"What's going on?" Logan shouted, gripping the wall so tightly that it dented slightly.
"I don't know!" Storm replied, tugging at the steering wheel uselessly. "It's not following my commands."
"Hang on!" Jean shouted at the children in the back of the plane. "This could be a bumpy landing!"
Strangely, though, rather than gaining speed as it plummeted the jet had begun to slow. At last, it came to a complete stop with its nose some three meters above the ground.
Less important than their sudden and surprising survival was who was controlling the plane. Logan had never seen the man before, but he recognized him from Marie's descriptions. He felt a growl form in his throat as he stared at the man's silly silver cape and silver hair and grey eyes.
Only his unusually keen hearing allowed him to hear Marie's whisper, full of dread and hatred and hope and fear and love. "Erik."