A Father’s Son

She watched the child play, his favourite cuddly bear clutched by his side as he ran up and down the length of the hallway of their stately home. The place richly furnished with expensive but subtle taste was decked out with the finest paintings, the best antique furniture and the richest carpets, in the deepest reds, browns and greens.

Smiling she shook her head slowly as the five year old ran narrowly avoiding the priceless Ming dynasty vase that toppled slightly on its antique walnut perch, it was steadied by a maid who heaved a deep sigh of relief when the child took to finally collapsing at his mothers feet exhausted at last.

Evelyn P Woodhouse-Browne was sat in the large armchair outside her husband’s study; she stroked the soft hair of her son’s head and smiled wistfully. What is it that we wish for our children, she wondered. To see them successful, to see them happy, to see them loved and cherished?

She wanted all of that for him, and more, but above all this she wanted him to remain ignorant, at least until she was ready, she wanted him to remain in the dark as to who he really was.

The nervous smile still playing on her lips she looked up as the door to her husband’s office opened and a small troupe of suited men stepped out, her husband in the middle they flanked all of his sides, he was a successful senator, a public figure and as such a prime target for the mutant terrorist element the news channels regularly assured Evelyn was plaguing their streets.

They were all heavily built their suits and silk ties clinging to their toned bodies, the sunglasses they each wore hiding their eyes, Evelyn slipped easily in between the bodyguards and fell into step with her husband, her son clutching her finger tightly as the family walked.

She turned her head slightly to offer a quick glance to the only female of this tight unit, she wore a sharp suit jacket and pressed skirt, her firearm holstered, the sunglasses framing her pale face, a small smear of lipstick on plump lips.

And her hair, Evelyn’s eyes always strayed to the woman’s hair. She’d been in service to the Woodhouse-Browne family for over a month and as of yet, Evelyn still hadn’t mustered up the courage to ask the female bodyguard about the peculiar colouration of her hair.

Two toned, the white streaks were pulled back merging into the dark elements of her hair, pinned into a tight ponytail, the hair swished slightly from side to side with every confident step she took.

Evelyn stared into the black reflection of her sunglasses, Marie she’d said her name was, just that Marie, a word she’d softly spoken right back when they’d hired her, just that, Marie.

She offered nothing more, but Evelyn had been assured all the same, maybe it was the maternal instinct inside her, but for some reason she convinced herself that a woman would empathise, would share that sense of protection, would take better care of them all, and make sure nothing happened to her son.

She saw Marie’s head tilt slightly to the side, her gaze shifting to her son, and the edges of her mouth twisting into a small wry smile. Evelyn looked back at her son; he was smiling as well, a full toothy grin just for Marie.

Evelyn held on tighter, as the large entrance doors to their house loomed in front of them, her heels tapping quickly over the marbled floor of the vestibule, the bodyguards shifting in closer as they stepped outside.

This was the part she always dreaded, the transference from home to car, that moment in between in which they were left completely vulnerable, she held a sharp breath as the doors opened and they stepped out into the light.

---

Marie would never understand them, humans; she would never understand their motivations, their objectives, and their means to an end. She stared at the Woodhouse-Browne family, at the father, senator Jonathan J, successful speaker, handsome, rich and all round good guy, at least where his own kind was concerned.

Marie had listened to his speeches, in the Senate, the way he had spoken so eloquently about neutering mutant women, had talked about effectively stunting the growth of mutant female babies, so they couldn’t reproduce, and the ‘unfortunates’ as he termed mutants that had already been born should be numbered and marked from birth.

The mutant registration act was not enough he argued, nope, good Ol’ JJ Woodhouse-Browne was all out for numbering, marking, and effectively castrating the Mutant race, he would have seen mutant children wiped off the face of the earth.

And they tell us we’re the monsters, the abomination, the unclean, the mistakes and the freak of nature, Marie shook her head slightly. He deserved to die, his life she would take gladly.

Her attentions turned to the woman, Evelyn, Marie smiled coldly to herself, she’d seen lots of women like Evelyn, wealthy, daddy’s rich little white girl, pampered and useless, they’d never seen the horrors of the life Marie had been born into. For her Marie felt nothing but indifference, of Evelyn she couldn’t care one way or the other.

But what of the boy? Five years old and being born to such parents, a loving but weak mother, and a father hated by an entire race, she had been that child once, and it had taken nothing short of a miracle to ensure she had survived.

Her thoughts raced back to him, back to Logan and that night in his cell, the lies she had told him and that empty promise she had made. A familiar dull ache settled on her heart and she felt her jaw clench.

This child’s death she would regret, but she had a contract to fulfil, events had already been set in motion, there was no going back, not for her, and not for the Woodhouse-Browne’s.

‘And they say ah’m a monster,’ Marie gritted her teeth, her conscious digging away at her, furious whispers in her mind as she stepped out into the sunlight, ‘and in your case they’d be right.’

---

Marie stood in the doorway barely a few feet away from the car, stared as the boy and his mother climbed into the back of the black sedan, she watched as the maid came running out of the house behind her calling out to the Senator about his urgent call that he just had to take.

They rushed past her, the senator and his bodyguards, leaving the wife and child vulnerable, with only the car driver and one other suit sat in the front, Marie reached for the sidearm she wore underneath her jacket and stepped forward firmly.

Her heeled boot sank into something soft, surprised she looked down to see the child’s cuddly teddy lying in the gravel walkway, she bent down to pick the toy up, her blood suddenly pounding in her ears at a hundred miles an hour, she fought to calm her breath, fought to gain control as images of the child flashed insistently behind her eyes.

Suddenly the passenger door flew open as the five year old ran out screaming he had lost his teddy, followed by his hysterical mother, Marie watched helplessly as they barrelled towards her, one hand clutching the toy and the other still hovering on her firearm.

And in her mind’s eye, in those hectic few minutes all she saw was Logan, in the forest back to when she had been seven years old, running headfirst into the light and in the sight of his gun, she remembered his sacrifice, the price he had paid.

Marie shook her head, the way for her suddenly clear, pulling the child to the ground, and his mother alongside she dove on top of them, shielding their bodies with her own as the black sedan they had been sitting in only seconds ago exploded...

Part 2- ‘A Mother’s Trust…’

The heat from the blast radiated over her back as Marie kept both Evelyn and her son pinned to the ground beneath her, she felt a sharp stab of pain to her right leg, and as she turned at last to the burning car wreckage, the intensity of the flames had her shielding her face.

She pulled herself to her feet, straining as her right leg buckled, she saw a large piece of metal embedded deep within her calf, teeth clenched tightly against the pain, she stared at the shivering hysterical form of Evelyn, curled at Marie’s feet, her tears causing her mascara to run, ugly black streaks forming over chiselled features.

She clutched her son close to her chest, and as she stared up at Marie’s form, illuminated by the burning car, bleeding heavily, gun held tightly in her hand, a vision straight out of hell she began to scream and scurry backwards holding tightly to her son and retreating back to what she thought would be the safety of the house.

Marie had no choice, ignoring the pain in her leg she hurried after Evelyn, dragging her injured leg behind, her gun pointed towards them, she thumbed off the safety, and fired.

Evelyn saw everything with eyes widening in horror, every new scream choked out of her, disbelief taking hold and strangling her heart. She watched as Marie hurried after them, her gun, Evelyn saw it all in slow motion, her natural maternal instincts allowing her to turn her back to take the oncoming bullet, wilfully placing herself in the firing line to protect her son if only for a few moments longer.

Evelyn had trusted this woman, Marie, entrusted her with the protection and well being of her child a promise she had now betrayed in the cruellest way.

She waited with an agonising inevitability for the bullet that was to come and take her life, her eyes shut tightly at last, her son held close to her chest, she waited as every sob racked her body, she waited for an inevitability….an inevitability that never came.

Realising at last that she was still breathing, she slowly prised open her eyes only to see one of her husbands bodyguards lying before her, a round hole punched into his forehead, his lifeless, hollow eyes staring up at her.

Hysteria took over once more and before she knew what was happening she found herself caught in a rain of bullets, frantic, she curled tighter into a ball, her son pinned firmly to her chest, the sound of exploding cartridges, and the ping as empty bullet casings fell to the floor, seemed to resonate louder than she could have ever thought possible.

Louder than her own hoarse sobbing, louder than the cries of her child she heard and felt the sound of bodies hitting the floor, the dull thud of human life cut short. Aching moans, promises of pain and the last hiss of a final breath.

It seemed to be an age before everything fell silent at last and Evelyn fought for the courage to open her eyes again, prising one eye to look around her, she saw dozens of them lying around her in a rough semi circle, the body guards, what she had considered to be her last line of defence, all dead, bullet holes puncturing their bodies, blood pouring, eyes sightless.

Her mouth locked open in an eternal look of horror and shock she turned back to stare at her, Marie, she stood firm, blood pouring down her leg, the muzzle of her gun smoking away in her hand, the smell of cordite and gunpowder heavy in the air.

Marie stalked up to mother and son once more, ‘We have to go…’ she seemed to be screaming down at her, but Evelyn heard nothing, shock having frozen her still. Marie reached out and grabbing the boy by the arm began to drag him towards the second car that had been waiting only moments ago for them.

Marie lifted the near hysterical child up into her arms, tucking him under her arm as he kicked and screamed, she dragged him around the burning sedan and headed for the passenger door of the other car. The roughness of her approach had been necessary; snatching the child would be the only way the mother would follow, she dumped the boy into the back seat of the car.

Evelyn sure enough hysterical and screaming clambered after her son, but she held firm, courage having found her at last, she stood a few feet away, a semi-automatic held in her shaking hands, the gun held up and aiming at Marie’s head. ‘You get away from my son…’ she spoke as firmly as she could, but the tremors were noticeable.

Marie turned back to her coolly, ‘Listen to me…those men…’ she pointed back to the bodies littering the driveway, ‘they were sent here to kill you, the both of you.’ Evelyn’s teary gaze flickered to her son, staring at her from the window of the car. Marie stepped forward; Evelyn grasped the gun tighter, her fingers hovering over the trigger. Marie carried on walking all the same.

‘Ah was sent here to kill you, but ah’m going to help you instead…ah promise, but ya have to trust me Evelyn…’ Marie spoke gently and reaching out took the gun from the woman’s shivering hands, resignation and exhaustion taking over, Marie grasping her firmly by the arm she pulled her towards the car and her son.

Evelyn climbed into the back of the car, as Marie quickly started up the engine, watching mother and son in the rear view mirror, as she pulled the boy into her lap, ‘Wait..’ Evelyn called out, ‘I won’t go without my husband, I won’t leave without my Jonathan…’ her hand was on the car door handle, Marie engaged the central locking quickly and the locks clicked shut.

‘Your husband was not the target…’ Marie spoke firmly, her gaze never leaving the other woman’s face, ‘ya and your son are…’

---

Marie listened intently to the sounds of the footsteps trailing quickly and silently through the small corridor. She gestured towards Evelyn and the boy to keep quiet, with a finger on her lips she waited ‘til she heard the faintest sounds of someone breathing just outside the room door.

Twisting the handle of the door slowly, she jerked the door open quickly and pulled the figure waiting outside in, tripping him up and pushing him to the floor she pinned him to the ground climbing atop his chest she pressed the gun to his forehead.

‘Wait…’ he shouted, ‘Marie…it’s me!’ She stared at him, and recognised him at last, nodding slightly she pulled him to his feet and put the gun away. He patted himself down, shaking the dirt free and turned to look at Evelyn and her son crouched on the small makeshift bed, fear and exhaustion written clearly on their faces.

‘Ya find out who ordered the hit?’ Marie called the attention of her handler back to herself, he turned to her slowly staring at the wound on her leg he handed her a thin file; she snatched it impatiently from him and began to read it in the dim room light.

She had brought them to the one of the few abandoned safe houses she knew the Firm to be no longer using. They would know by now that the job had gone wrong, that she hadn’t carried out the contract, and now as a result she was as expendable as the two lives she had just saved.

Marie scanned the documents, Jack, her handler, her friend and the one human in this world she almost, nearly trusted read over her shoulder, ‘They hadn’t changed my security clearance yet, I knew something had gone wrong when you didn’t check in like we agreed. Figured we’d need these, if we’re gonna have any leverage over the Firm…’

This was their contingency plan, as far as the Firm was concerned any mistake by an asset was considered to reflect badly on the handler, as such both became expendable. Both Jack and Marie had agreed if there ever came a time when they needed an out they’d need something to buy their way out from under the Firm, information, extortion, blackmail, anything.

As she read Marie’s hand clutched the file tighter, knuckles paling, she couldn’t believe what she was reading, this couldn’t, shouldn’t be right, what the hell was going on? She turned to face Jack, his face mirroring the surprise written on hers, they both looked at Evelyn and the child she held firmly in her lap.

‘The hit was ordered by Jonathan Woodhouse-Browne?’ Marie repeated the words she’d just read, her voice barely carrying over a whisper, ‘that can’t be right, what sort of man orders the death of his own wife and son…?’

Evelyn stared up at them, her eyes glowing with anger, her next words were spoken with a bitter tinge, words Marie could barely believe she was hearing, ‘He isn’t his son, my son is not the child of a Jonathan Woodhouse-Browne the famous senator, my son is a mutant…’

Part 3- ‘A Lover’s Vow…’

Mutant…halt!

Logan growled loudly, screaming out his frustration, his adamantium claws dripping with blood, it was red…it was all red. The sky was burning, a dark red set against the black, smoke making his eyes water, they had been close, so fuckin’ close.

He was tired, God he was tired, time drifting on endlessly, watching them fall, watching them bleed and feeling nothing, nothing but frustration and hate, they were weak, for fuck’s sake why’d they’d have to be so fuckin’ weak?

Their bodies littered the prison courtyard, the containment facility sprawling across the state, blood running down the hills across the barren ground, red set against black. Red against black…he fell to his knees, he remembered, he felt her again, her hips grinding against his, the hot wetness of her surrounding him, the way she moved with every stroke of his body inside her.

He remembered her lies, that beautiful lie mumbled from those heavenly lips…angel…my angel. Empty promises and destructive lies…lying angel, falling angel… my angel.

Red against black…his shirt torn and his body bloodied he stared at the three sentinels hovering around him, their guns primed, the reds of the cameras that passed for their eyes set against the black, their robotic voices droning over his hoarse screams.

Drowning…drowning in red and black…the feel of that kimono, the feel of that skin, milky white and flawless, softer than silk, smoother than air, five years he’d waited for her to come back, five years of living in her lie, of replaying the images of her in his mind, beautiful curves, soft skin, white streaks of hair framing brown, a white halo, a broken halo.

Leader of insurgents identified…prisoner X-3P4…Logan…codename Wolverine, present threat reclassified, action recommended…immediate extermination…’

‘Come on you fuckers…’ he screamed, ‘do it…’ he’d already been to hell, and he’d seen all he was ever going to of heaven…angel…my angel. His eyes held wide open, staring up at the deep red sky, he saw her once more, looking down at him, smiling and beautiful.

It was the last thing he saw before everything went black.

---

He spluttered awake as the ice cold water hit him square in the face, stinging his skin and soaking his ragged hair. He shook his head, spitting water from his mouth and prising his eyes open.

It was dark, a single light bulb swung above his head, casting and illuminating the shadows in the room, cold and damp he sniffed the air thinking he had been dragged back to his cell.

Nope, this wasn’t the cage, this wasn’t something else, he found himself chained to the floor, heavy bolts and chains pinning him to the stone floor, shirtless, drops of water ran down the ripples of his stomach, he growled as he heard quick steps moving in the dark, something was moved across the room, wheels squeaking, he turned his head quickly left and right, trying to make sense of the movements.

He stared as a shadowed figure placed a platform in front of him, a large television screen balanced on top, he watched as the screen flickered with static before it flashed with images ready to play.

‘The civilised was shocked today to learn of the horrific events surrounding the attempted assassination of Senator Woodhouse-Browne, believed to have been carried out by a militant mutant terrorist organisation.

Tragically both the Senator’s young wife and five year old son were killed in the incident when a bomb attached to the one of the enclave of family cars exploded. Authorities are said to be chasing down leads that involves theories regarding a contractual hit and a female assassin…

We have exclusive footage of the horrific moment of the explosion…’

Logan stared at his screen a small cold smile pressed on his lips, he watched as the news report was switched off and the screen rolled away, a tall man with a pair of red sunglasses stepped into the light.

A mutant, Logan knew instantly, his senses everything screamed at him about the guy’s true nature. He hadn’t lost any of the abilities he’d had as a soldier, if anything they had been heightened by their experiments, he could sense mutants, smell them, and yes still hunt them down if he had to, their kind, mutants…his kind.

He crouched down and Logan growled at him, the man adjusted his sunglasses, ‘take it easy Logan…this doesn’t have to get ugly not unless you want it to.’ He spoke with a clipped accent each word punctuated carefully.

Logan chuckled, ‘Big man with your threats there Skippy, how ‘bout ya loosen these chains and we see how ugly things can get.’ He lunged forward but the restraints held him in place and the guy in the glasses simply stepped away.

He ignored Logan’s threats, the slightest twinge in his jaw, he nodded towards the television screen, ‘You like what you see?’

‘Why, is that down to you? ‘Cause I’d give you a slow hand-clap but I’m a little tied up right now.’ Logan stared up at him, rattling the chains.

‘My name is Cyclops, and no we’re not responsible for that, we’re mutants, that doesn’t make us monsters, we don’t kill children.’ He spoke angrily and passionately, his face contorted with disgust, Logan’s words seemed to have offended him.

Logan raised an eyebrow, ‘why not, they’ve killed enough of yours; I reckon you mutants were about ripe for a bit of revenge.’

Cyclops scoffed, ‘Us mutants?’ He marched up quickly towards Logan, ‘What does that make you then?’

Logan ignored his words and looked away, even as Cyclops laughed; jerking Logan’s head back by his hair he threw a file at his feet and made him look. ‘We don’t kill children…for the same reason you didn’t kill her.’

Logan stared at the picture pinned to the front of the thin manila folder, a young girl, nothing more than seven years old, full lips and thick brown hair, and those eyes, chocolate brown eyes, darkened with sadness, eyes that screamed out at him even in a cheap Polaroid, tripping his soul back into him. Renewing his faith, dragging him back to that moment in a forest, a few seconds of indecision that had gladly cost him everything, with you I died and with you I was reborn.

‘Marie…’ he whispered, angel…my angel.

Recognition filled his eyes, burning his insides with pain, a love embraced and within the same breath lost, falling at her feet, salvation a mere heartbeat away, a beautiful smile and a beautiful lie.

Cyclops paced across the room, his fists clenched by his sides, ‘You would have done us a favour, you should have pulled the trigger, so many lives…so many lives taken like this little boy.’ His voice shook with anger.

Logan growled, ‘What the fuck are you talkin’ about?’ he demanded, pulling at the chains, confusion and frustration raining down on him.

‘Weren’t you listening to the report Logan…a contractual kill and a female assassin, you need anymore clues?’ he threw a second picture next to the one of Marie, it showed the Woodhouse-Browne family caught on a security camera by the entrance of their house, the mother, father and child flanked by half a dozen heavily built guards.

Cyclops knelt close to Logan, tapping at the picture, ‘Look, you recognise her…?’ He didn’t need to ask, even in the black and white contrasts of the picture he saw her, and he recognised her, the two tones of her hair, black and white…angel and death, Marie.

But still he refused to believe, the fact she was there could have meant anything, or nothing at all.

‘This doesn’t prove shit…’ he spat out his dismissal. Cyclops shook his head, ‘fine you want more…?’ Walking across the room quickly he stepped into the shadows before coming back with a box.

Setting it on the floor by Logan he reached into the box and pulled out file after file, throwing them towards Logan, the sheets of paper, news clippings, and photographs hitting him in the chest before they rained down around his legs.

Logan stared at them, the pictures, victims, corpses, dead bodies and empty eyes staring up at him, women and men, old and young, twisted in their final images of death. Cyclops began to recite, and every word was a twisting knife to Logan’s gut, ‘she works for a covert company, they use their engineering and accounting credentials as a front, what they actually deal in is a unique establishment that hires out killers, trained assassins, filling out contracts. Known generally as The Firm…’

Cyclops paused, throwing more files down for Logan to look at, ‘The Firm is said to have a central core of mutants as their base, it’s what makes them renowned, they hire mutants to kill other mutants, or kill humans, it doesn’t matter, The Firm owns them and they carry out their contracts.’

‘Mutant…?’ Logan repeated, of course she was a mutant, but he had never thought to ask her, what she was, it hadn’t mattered to him, that night in his cell, it had only mattered that she was there.

‘You don’t even know what her power is…?’ Cyclops stared at him, seeming to contemplate the truth of Logan’s question. ‘She can kill with a single touch, if she holds on to anyone long enough, bare skin on skin she will bleed them dry, and if they happen to be a mutant, she’ll drain their powers as well.’

Logan simply stared at him, before his shoulders began to shake, and the confusion on Cyclops’s face only made him laugh louder, a full throaty laugh escaping him as he laughed loud and long.

‘We spent a night together, you dumb-ass, and trust me there was plenty of skin on skin, as far as I can tell I’m still breathing…’ Logan laughed all over again, ‘I knew this was all bullshit, but for a minute there you almost had me convinced.’

Relief flooded over him in waves, Marie, she wasn’t perfect, but she wasn’t what this asshole had said she was either…she couldn’t be.

Cyclops simply shook his head, ‘Dammit Logan, you really are as dumb as you look, what you never heard of the chip?’ He smiled as Logan’s face fell and the laughter faded from his eyes, ‘you know the inhibitor chip right? Like a good little bitch, The Firm has your Marie restrained.’

Logan growled loudly, ‘Fuck you…one-eye,’ he launched towards him only to find himself pulled up short by the chains, ‘you don’t know shit.’

‘I know this…’ Cyclops held up file, ‘her first victim, she was ten years old, and her first was a mutant called Havoc. He took her in, saved her life, and she bled him dry…he was my brother, Alex Summers, she killed my brother.’

Logan shut his eyes tightly at the words, not her…not her…not her. Angel…fallen angel…my angel…

‘What d’ya want from me…?’ he whispered at last. Why…why rip this away, I could have lived with my illusions, why open my eyes, why force me to see?

It was then she stepped into the room, he took in the scent of her, strawberries and cream, rich like the red depths of her hair. Logan stared up at her, and in her green eyes there was pity and sorrow.

She stared back at him, and he could feel it, that slow draining out as she shuffled through his memories, sifting through the pictures in his head until the images flashed before his eyes, that night in his cell, the briefest image of a bare body, of heated and damp flesh, naked skin, a cry ringing out, pleasure and fulfilment.

He stared as the image of her body turned, her dark hair shifting to the side allowing him to see his face, Evelyn. Logan struggled with the memory as the redhead drew it all out of him, pulling away at the locked vaults of his mind, dragging it all out piece by aching piece.

She stopped; he could see her pull away, a tell-tale blush creeping up her neck. Logan knew what she’d done, she was a telepath, and she’d violated him in the basest way possible, diving in where she had no business being, she’d stolen his memories.

He growled at the triumphant smile on Cyclops’s face as he went to stand next to her, ‘Scott…’ she spoke gently, as she stared at Logan, ‘you were right…’

Logan shook his head clear; he gritted his teeth, ‘Like what you see up there Red? How ‘bout you get rid of your girlfriend here…’ he nodded at Scott, ‘and I really give you something to blush about.’

She stood unmoved, flashes of his memory passing before her mind’s eye, Logan taking that woman up against the wall, making sweet polite Evelyn scream out loud in pleasure; the images had ignited a fire in the pit of her stomach. But on the outside she appeared as unaffected as ever.

The smile on Scott’s face slipped as he stepped forward menacingly, she stopped him with a hand on his arm. ‘You better watch your mouth…’

Logan laughed, ‘Come on Skippy, I just wanna find out if she’s a natural red.’

‘Show her some fuckin’ respect you sonofabitch…’ Scott practically shook as he held himself back.

‘What’s the matter Scotty, she your girl or somethin’?’ The silence confirmed it, Logan sniggered, ‘well I gotta tell you little man, you sure as hell ain’t doin’ it right, ‘cause I can smell her, can practically taste how wet she is from all the way over here, and guess what sweetheart, it ain’t you the little red-head is getting tight for!’

Scott lost it with that, pulling away from the woman he punched Logan squarely across the face, a large crack filled the air as knuckles connected with chin. He was thrown to the floor as Scott clutched his hand.

Logan laughed, ‘You feel better now…?’ he pulled himself back upright.

Scott practically screamed in agony as he held his hand, ‘You bastard I think I broke my hand!’

‘You’re lucky I rolled with that punch…a crippled hand wouldn’t have gone well with the red glasses look,’ Logan promised him.

‘That ‘s enough…’ the red head stepped in between the two Alpha males, she knelt down close to Logan even as Scott warned her to be careful.

She stared at him a while before she spoke, ‘We want you to help us find her, she has to be stopped, the damage she has caused is irreparable.’

‘No.’ Logan smiled and shook his head at her, ‘no can do darlin’, you want her, then you go find her…’

She nodded, ‘its hard…’ she whispered into him, ‘hearing the truth about someone you thought you loved, someone you thought was perfect…’ She seemed to be speaking right into his mind, her words a careful whisper of understanding, as she fought to make a connection with him.

He could feel the planes of his mind shift slightly once more, and could feel the pull, all at once there she was, Marie, smiling her face shining with an ethereal light as she looked up at him.

Logan growled loudly, ‘Back off red, back the hell off,’ he barked at her, ‘don’t think you get a free fuckin’ ride up there.’ It was too precious, what little he had stored away of Marie he wasn’t willing to share.

She stood and moved away, ‘Don’t worry Logan, I won’t touch those memories, I promise I won’t take that from you, but you owe it to yourself to find out the truth, about her and that child.’

‘I don’t give a shit ‘bout that kid alright…’ he cursed, pulling at the chains, straining against the restraints, he watched her walk around him. She stood behind him and leant in close, whispering into his ear.

‘You should care about that kid…he was your son…’

Part 4- ‘A Sinner’s Redemption…’

Marie stood watching the water flow effortlessly, it’s rhythmic notions swaying gently from side to side, lapping back and forth at her feet. It was quiet and still, not a single breath moving between the trees, the air so still and cold, a peace swayed and held by the gentle murmurs of the water.

A blanket of snow covered the scene in a serene show of white, so pure, so simple, so unlike the thudding heart and blackness etched into her very soul. She derived everything from the soft swaying of the water, peace and comfort, because in this, here in this place she had a sense of resolution, of coming home.

She looked around her, back across the lake towards the steep embankment and the wide forest of trees, settling at last on the sight of a small ramshackle building, its small outhouse, and partially caved in roof. The crumbling stones for its walls, she stared at the place knowing within its boundaries held the one thing that allowed her to still have a connection with him.

She wondered if that was the reason she had brought them back here, to this place; beyond that ridge lay the path she had taken, as a child, the frightened steps that had seen her run practically into his arms. Into the sight of his gun, towards the light, a place where life and death had come together, sinner and redemption, a faith embraced and a love lost in the same instant.

Here was where his blood stained the floor, mingling with the dirt, lost in the bleak darkness, and despite it all, he had smiled. Marie took a step back from the edge of the lake, a shuddering breath caressing her aching bones, she was tired, there had been too many years, too many lives in between, and she wondered if it was even possible for her to seek some sort of redemption.

And she wondered if it was redemption she sought, had her conscious been kicked enough for her to claw back, back to seek what…forgiveness? Or if it was simply her desire to see something of him survive, and to be allowed to be within inches of a heart she had given up.

Logan’s son, she was protecting his son, his blood flowed through that boy, through some insane twist of fate she had been thrown headfirst into a situation where a sense of duty, of responsibility had been thrust upon her.

And she would live up to it, even if Logan could never know what it was she had done, she would protect that boy as Logan had protected her, she would sacrifice as he had done for her, she would bleed, stain this ground with her blood as he had done.

And she would die; give the last of her breath for a child, as Logan had done for her.

---

Marie stalked her way carefully against the thick trees, the heavy snow underfoot making her have to dig her feet in to get a good grip. The cold air made her leg ache all the more, the thick swathes of bandages she had wrapped around the wound doing nothing to ease the pain.

She could feel the cut open up again, there had been no time to deal with it properly, aside from a few painkillers and some iodine Jack had hurriedly picked up from a drug store, she had done little else to address the wound and now for the past few days she had begun to realise the deep cut had become septic.

A few more days as her blood slowly became poisonous; she would have to face losing the leg or her life. But it didn’t matter a few days was all she needed; they had nearly gathered all the papers they needed for Evelyn and the boy. Passports and a fake drivers licence, everything they needed to get them across the border and out of the country.

Away from The Firm that still had a contract to fill, away from Senator Woodhouse-Browne and his concept of revenge and away from a society that would never accept the child once they realised who he was, the son of a mutant.

She stopped at the door of the cabin; something in the air caught her ear, a sound, a sharp rustle of leaves away down the embankment, turning around quickly she stared into the trees, seeking out…something. She stood for ages that way, staring, her keen eyes rooted to a singular spot beside a heavy pine, the wind whipped up driving the leaves and a fine mist of snow into the air.

Marie turned away at last, she saw Jack standing just beyond doorway, staring past her shoulder and down towards the lake. She walked towards him; placing a hand on his shoulder she leant on him for support and heard him sigh loudly.

She knew he had his own demons to fight, that moment so many years ago when she had been forced to absorb him; she had taken in his fears, the tragic past of his life. She followed Jack’s gaze down towards the water, knowing in the same instant what he was thinking of.

She saw it all then, as she had seen it the moment he had touched her, a young Jack stood on the side of a lake his face contorted in a silent scream as he watched his sister floating away, face down in the water carried away in the current.

‘It wasn’t your fault, she drowned, you couldn’t have helped her…’ she whispered gently to him.

He looked at her with a small smile, ‘I was supposed to have been looking after her…Mum and Dad trusted me to take care of her.’

‘You were thirteen years old Jack and it was an accident…’ she kissed him gently, a slight brush of lips against his cheek. He nodded slightly before enfolding her in his arms and helping her back into the house.

‘Do you think the worst is over Marie…think they’re gonna let us go now?’

Marie stopped and stared back at the trees contemplating Jack’s question, she shook her head slowly, ‘they can’t, not yet, there’s still too much at stake…’

---

Logan shut his eyes against the thudding sound of his heart beating at a hundred miles an hour, the aching brightness of all the snow beat against the closed lids of his eyes, sending him screaming back to that moment in the labs, waking up and staring at the cold clinical tiled ceiling, the shining metals and there reflections perversely clean and crisp, belying the sickness of the experiments carried out on the lab tables.

He was crouched low in the thickets, holding his breath, moving slowly across the dense snow covered ground, every second stretching into in an eternity, every minute a thudding heartbeat, hounding in on him, every blade of grass, every cold rush of air a reminder.

A cold aching reminder, of what this place was, here I died and was reborn, I came as a soul lost, but your face, your innocence tripped that soul back into me, at your feet a faith was renewed and a hope reborn. And in that same heartbeat a love was found and lost.

I died for you, an aching thousand times I died for you, in their cold laboratories, where they broke me and made me a thousand times over, every time, every single damn time, it was you, your face, that brought me, that forced me to breathe again, pushed air into my lungs when they drowned me, healed the bones when they broke them, stemmed the tide of my blood when they drained it.

You…you…it was all you.

And now, now to have come back to this place, where a sinner died and an angel was born, here he was a mere hundred feet away from her, staring at her, her beauty still nothing else he could have compared to, ageless in its composure, angelic in its appearance.

Or at least it had been, why….why, he cursed, as his gaze shifted down the length of her beautiful hair, along the pale skin of her arms and the black silk of her gloves, down to her taut stomach and her long legs, the pronounced limp in her right leg as she turned back to walk inside the cabin.

Why…why couldn’t you have justified my faith in you, why couldn’t you have left me believing, in an angel, in redemption, in hope through suffering?

Why couldn’t you have let the boy live, shown the same mercy, something of compassion, something of a light…why…why?

Logan gritted his teeth, an aging old bitterness seeping through his bones, there was nothing, nothing of faith, no use believing in angels, he had died and he had sacrificed for nothing. What she had become, so far from the faith he had placed within her, so far from the hope and dreams and all the light he had imagined around her.

She had stolen that from him, torn it apart, that sense of redemption and left him facing the blinding aches and fury that burned away inside, his adamantium claws shot out in his frustration and shredded the bark of the pine tree in front of him.

‘I’ve had enough of this shit…I’ll go in and get her myself,’ Scott hissed behind him, moving forwards and past Logan.

He was stopped in his tracks when Logan’s claws shot up and stopped inches in front of his crotch, ‘You stay the hell where you are One Eye, or I swear you’re gonna end up being less than useless to Red…’

Scott backed down when he saw the cold hard glint in Logan’s eyes, ‘I’ll do this my way, and I’ll deal with her…’

---

It had happened like this, five years after the birth of his first son Senator Woodhouse-Browne wanting to cement the image of a good family man, decided it was about time a second addition was made to the family.

And finally after years of unsuccessful attempts, the Senator swallowed his pride and went to see a fertility specialist, only to discover he was infertile, not only then, but he always had been, five years ago he had been infertile. The child he thought was his had been fathered by some other man.

Through his anger and hate he sought to discover the boy’s true paternity and the identity of his wife’s lover, he had hired a private detective and after that it had been a matter of following the breadcrumb trail.

That trail had ended in the bitterest of betrayals, his wife had lain with, had allowed herself to be defiled by the hands of a mutant, not only that but had borne his seed, and for that sin against nature itself Senator Browne had seen no other way but to see both his unfaithful wife and the bastard child destroyed.

Now, as Marie stared at them both, mother and child sleeping in the corner of the darkened basement, she was acutely aware of the danger they were still in. There had been something in the woods she was sure of it, as she pulled herself to her feet, moving slowly past the sleeping form of Jack she hauled herself silently up the wooden steps, her gun held tightly in her hand, she pushed open the door and stepped out into the dark night.

---

Logan had moved to within a few hundred yards of the house when he had seen her step out of the door, her limp prominent, and the gun held tightly by the side of her leg, she moved quietly and sure despite the obvious pain her leg was in. He watched her disappear around the back of the house, crouched low beside the tree; he felt the cold of the snow seeping into his skin.

He was aching and cold, but his breath still caught in his throat at the sight of her, his mind racing back to the night they had spent in his cell, and through the blizzard snow that blinded his sight, he could see her clearly as if she was in his arms now, the warmth of her skin, the heady scent of her, the fire that had burned between them and now sent his senses spinning.

Pressing his forehead against the tree, he drew in a shuddering breath, as the sweetness of her lies, the gentle whisper of her false promises brushed against his ear. He groaned in misery and the ecstasy of her memory, painfully aware of the only option that was open to him now.

He had heard her coming, she had been careful, her silent steps would have caught anyone else off guard, but not him, his mutancy had given him enhanced hearing, he knew she had doubled back, around the back of the house, taking a wide arc to eventually arrive right behind him.

He felt the cold hard muzzle of her gun press into the back of his neck, he heard her gentle breath, and he smiled grimly as he spoke, ‘Hello Marie…’

Make that fifty-one ways to say goodbye to your lover.

---

He had been too quick for her; he’d tripped her up, thrown the gun out her hand and pushed her to the ground in a few seconds. She barely had time to draw a breath before she found his crushing weight on top of her, and then they were rolling through the snow, down the ridge and stopping in front of the cabin.

Logan hauled her to her feet, and a thousand confusing images passed through his mind, he saw her, in his arms, lying to him, lying with him, all that useless faith he had placed within her, all those years he had wasted. Those times he had consented to die, knowing in his resurrection he’d see her; that he’d be allowed feel her again.

And he saw her now, Marie, killer, angel, and assassin, all he had known and now nothing he understood, the images of the lives she had taken flashed before him, mutants, humans, men and women, young and old.

A child…his child.

Why…why, why couldn’t you have justified my faith in you?

His haunting question came as a roar in the night, all his anger, hate and uselessness, the rage at himself and her manifested in his claws, they sprang through his knuckles, six deadly, razor sharp adamantium claws, three on one hand and three on the other, he felt them plunge through her chest, just above her stomach, three on one side and three for the other.

The sickening crunch of bones being sliced, of flesh parting, of muscle being torn, of vitals organs being punctured, the agony of realisation sprang forth in the tears that gilded her brown eyes as she stared up at him.

He held her skewered on the end of his hands, her arms hung limply about his shoulders, blood dripping form the corner of her mouth as she whispered his name, ‘James…’

And his heart, broken and bruised, with a lost hope ached as he watched her struggle, her hair hanging as her head fell backwards.

---

‘Marie…?’ It was a small voice that called out to her, a tiny voice, barely carrying over the snow and darkness; it was a child’s voice.

She turned her head slightly; the burning from the metal still embedded deep within her chest, reminding her that she was broken threatened to overwhelm her as she met the gaze of Evelyn’s son, of Logan’s son.

She saw Logan’s eyes turned toward the boy, recognition, shock and horror carving the lines in his face, he was alive, the child was alive, and was watching him as Logan realised his God awful mistake.

But he shouldn’t see his father like this; no child should regard their father as a monster.Struggling she pulled herself upwards, willing herself to be crucified on his adamantium claws once more as she concealed them from the five year old boy’s gaze, making it appear as if she was hugging him.

Pressing her face close to Logan’s she whispered, every word an aching mess of pain and agony, ‘don’t move, h-he…shouldn’t have t-to see th-this…he’s seen too much already…’ she begged him.

Turning back to the child she smiled, the faintest trickle of blood seeping from the corner of her mouth, ‘Y-ya go on back to your mama n-now, it’s cold and ya s-shouldn’t be out here…’

She watched as the boy’s gaze shifted towards Logan, she spoke firmly then, ‘This is an old friend of mine…it-it’s okay, don’t be s-scared…’ Her eyes drifted shut, she forced them open once more, her eyes flashing, ‘g-go on now, ah’ll b-be in soon…ah p-promise.’

The boy looked at Logan once more, a child’s innocent eyes staring up at the man’s aged and feral gaze, turning quickly he ran back towards the cabin, his mother stood inside the doorway her hand pressed to her mouth as she met and held Logan’s gaze, horror, recognition and shame pressing in on her. She enveloped her child in her arms and pulled him into the safety and darkness of the cabin.

Marie pressed her head against Logan’s chest as she felt him retract his claws, a sharp swish cutting through the night air as he pulled the metal out of her. She sighed softly as her final breaths came in shortened gasps, the blood gushed from her wounds, rivers of red staining the snow as it dripped down to meet the white purity of the ground.

She heard him moan in grief and disbelief as her legs gave out and she collapsed to her knees, he caught her just before she fell to the floor, her head lolling to one side she saw Jack hurrying over to her, he was screaming her name.

A silent tear rolled down her cheek, mingling with the blood that stained her lips, crimson hue marking her final minutes. Logan held her close to his chest, contemplation still beyond him, he felt his chest crushing with every shuddering breath she took, his throat constricted as he struggled to contain the screams tearing at his mind and his heart.

‘Marie…! Oh God…what have you done…?’ Logan looked up at Jack as he fell to his knees beside her, his eyes wide with horror he stared at the holes perforating her chest, pressing his hands desperately to her flesh, sliced open and torn apart, desperately trying to stem the blood flowing out of her, the life oozing, fading away.

What have you done…?

He pulled her from Logan’s arms, pulled her into his clutches, the tears streaming down his face as he brushed the hair out of her face; she reached up, her fingers brushing against his cheek, smiling slightly she whispered, ‘Ah’m sorry…ah’m so sorry…’

Jack shook his head, as her fingers slipped down his face smearing his skin with the sticky red of her blood; a final gasp racked her body before she grew limp in his arms. He felt the strength, the warmth and life leave her, and there lying in the snow, stained within a dark pool of red she died. A hoarse scream ripped from his throat as he just shook his head again and again in denial, clutching her to his chest, his body racked with sobs as he refused to let her go.

Logan could only stare, at Jack and the body of Marie, at Scott who had come to stand over them, his silent red gaze boring into his very soul.

What have you done…?

He struggled to his feet, his claws still extracted, still dripping with her blood, tiny droplets forming in rivulets, running down the shiny, gleaming metal, pooling at the tips, they dropped onto the cold snow as he dragged his aching soul away from his crime and his shame.

A trail of red following him, marking him for what he was, for the tragic mistake he had made…, with you I died and with you I was reborn….with you I died.

His shoulders sagging and his head falling to his chest, he dragged his feet away into the darkness, the red mark of Cain following him as he went, forever embedding him, and forever marking him for what he now was.

Logan…the demon that slew an angel…his angel.

---

‘Somewhere Only We Know’- Keane

I walked across an empty land
I knew the pathway like the back of my hand
I felt the earth beneath my feet
Sat by the river and it made me complete

Oh simple thing where have you gone?
I'm getting old and I need something to rely on
So tell me when you're gonna let me in
I'm getting tired and I need somewhere to begin

I came across a fallen tree
I felt the branches of it looking at me
Is this the place we used to love?
Is this the place that I've been dreaming of?

Oh simple thing where have you gone?
I'm getting old and I need something to rely on
So tell me when you're gonna let me in
I'm getting tired and I need somewhere to begin

And if you have a minute why don't we go
Talk about it somewhere only we know?
This could be the end of everything
So why don't we go
Somewhere only we know?
Somewhere only we know?

Oh simple thing where have you gone?
I'm getting old and I need something to rely on
So tell me when you're gonna let me in
I'm getting tired and I need somewhere to begin

And if you have a minute why don't we go
Talk about it somewhere only we know?
This could be the end of everything
So why don't we go
So why don't we go


This could be the end of everything
So why don't we go
Somewhere only we know?
Somewhere only we know?
Somewhere only we know?

---

‘Sympathetic’- Seether

And my words will be here when I’m gone
As I’m fading away against the wind
And the words you left me linger on
As I’m failing again now, never to change this

And I’m sympathetic,
never letting on I feel the way I do
As I’m falling apart again at the seam

And it seems I’m alone here, hollow again
As I’m flailing again against the wind
And the scars I am left with swallow again
As I’m failing again now, never to change this

And I’m sympathetic,
never letting on I feel the way I do
As I’m falling apart again at the seam
And I’m sympathetic,
never letting on I feel the way I do
As I’m falling apart again at the seam

The same old feelings are taking over
and I can’t seem to make them go away
And I can’t take all the pressure sober,
but I can’t seem to make it go away
The same old feelings are taking over
and I can’t seem to make them go away
And I can’t take all the pressure sober
(I can’t make it go away. I can’t make it go away)

And I’m sympathetic,
never letting on I feel the way I do
As I’m falling apart again at the seam
And I’m sympathetic,
never letting on I feel the way I do
As I’m falling apart again at the seam
And I’m falling, falling, falling,
falling, falling, falling, falling
Apart again at the seam.