Part 11- ‘The Better Half Of Me…?’
‘What makes ya think you’re talkin’ to Marie?’
Holy Fuck! Logan heard the words, the soft spoken voice, the Southern lilt, but it was not her, not Marie, but then what?
His hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, the gun was jutted tightly under his chin, he stared at her even as he pulled the wheel into a sharp right, and as the truck skidded to a screeching halt into a ditch at the side of the road, he stared at her still.
He gritted his teeth, ‘Who are you?’ he spat the words at her, this girl, in appearance everything he loved, everything he understood and everything he knew, but not her, not Marie, but something else, invader, violator…not Marie.
She smiled at him, a cold smile, devoid of any humour, devoid of consequence, she chuckled a little and her shoulders shook, the two-tone hair shaking loose, but the gun remained where it was, she was using it as a barrier to stop him getting any closer.
Stopped him touching her, stopped him short of knowing, knowing that the skin would feel the same; the hair would feel the same, but inside, inside it was not Marie, she was not there.
His heart constricted in his chest, and he struggled to contain the claws that itched to make an appearance, to tear this picture, to tear this scene apart, Marie…in appearance nothing more.
Chocolate brown eyes stared up at him, and he remembered the smile those eyes used to contain, the tears that had spilled, the sadness from her loneliness, when the skin was untouchable and the heart would not mend, broken, hurt and torn apart in so many ways.
There were holes in the soul of that girl, she had reached out for him but so many times he had fallen short, not knowing, not knowing how to begin, how to fix it for her.
That girl had decided to fix it for herself, had decided that she would pull it apart, and she would put it together, away from him, away from the life she had known, broken she may have been, but she’d been willing to fight for it and for a while she’d put it back together the way she’d wanted.
That girl had been real, that girl had been human…Marie, in soul, in spirit, in appearance and in everything else, making mistakes, choosing to believe in nothing, but she’d been human, behind those eyes…she was alive.
Now those eyes were darker, the stare vacant, the soul lost…the spirit gone.
‘Who are you?’ He whispered, the words barely forming, his tone bitter and hurt.
‘I’m here! For fuck’s sake I‘m right here! Why can’t ya hear me…why can’t ya touch me?’
She stared up from her prison, lying flat out on the floor of the glass prison she screamed and screamed, but nothing, the voice never returned and she was alone again, alone under a bright green light that burned at her very soul.
‘I’m here…I’m right here…’
She shut her eyes, the tears flowing from the shut eyelids down her cheeks and falling onto the glass. It was the only sound, in the bleakness, when the screaming was done and the pain would not ebb, it was the only sound, the tiny patter of soft falling tears.
‘Shhhh…’ A whisper, a gentle whisper in her ear, and she opened her eyes, and stared into the face of a man with white hair, broad shoulders and hard set features. His hand reached out and brushed against her cheek, brushing the wetness away, it was a gentle touch but it promised so much more.
She shuddered against it, the perverseness of his touch, it whispered obsession, spoke possession, and spoke of promises to come. She pulled away, her skin reviling at his caress, but she was bound.
Her arms and legs were strapped to a steel gurney, thick straps that bound above her wrists and at her ankles. More straps held her at the chest and torso, she struggled against the confines, but it was no use, she wasn’t going anywhere.
They milled around her, the room was suffocating with people, heaving with bodies that moved around, eyes that stared, and hands that probed and took notes. She was on display, she was being readied, and she was being transformed.
She took the gun away at last, held it in her lap and fingered the weapon gently; she caressed it with a tenderness that Logan found unnerving. Caressed it like an old friend, a lover, a lost soul coming home.
‘I won’t ask again, who are you?’ His voice ground out the words, bruised and battered sounds that ached over this nightmare that would not end, that betrayed the horror, the fear that maybe, despite all their efforts, for all his love, she was gone.
Marie was gone for good, ‘forever just like ya said kid, but I don’t think this is what ya meant.’ He shut his eyes, holding on, holding to that image of that girl, that love that had moved through his soul with all the force of a hurricane, as sudden and complete, it kept him sane, it kept him together.
‘Who am I? Now that’d jus’ be tellin’ wouldn’t it…Logan?’
Her voice was Marie’s voice, a little deeper but with the same accent, with the same lilt. But he kept his eyes fixed on the road ahead, as long as he didn’t look into her eyes, as long as he couldn’t see the light fading he could keep the hope alive, she wasn’t gone, she was here beside him, thing was he just had to fight a little harder to see it.
A sudden realisation dawned on him, her fighting spirit, that cold collected charm, that strength; could it be, was it?
‘Rogue…?’
He heard her hitch a breath and he turned to look at her reluctantly; her face was set in a look of pained grimace, before she leaned over and spoke gently in his ear.
‘Why, did ya miss me big boy?’
He stared at her, the ambiguous response to his question, the look that crossed her face screamed betrayal and pain, but she shook her head and Logan was confused and frustrated all over again. She settled back into her seat and poured all her attention back to the gun, she held onto it, a lifeline, the giver of death was clutched as if it was the very essence of her.
‘Nope, not Rogue, stupid girl cut that part out, like it was a disease, a thing to be ashamed of, filthy, unclean, somethin’ to be killed…somethin’ to be cured.’ She spat the words out as if they disgusted her to say.
Logan didn’t know how to react, who or what was this?
She struggled to keep her eyes open; she could hear words and one name, a single name that kept being repeated, her name, Marie D’Ancanto.
Images flashed before her, the life she had lived, the memories, a past that haunted played out beneath flashing coloured lights, hazy remembrances danced underneath heavy eyelids.
They were forcing it out of her, the memories, who she was, what she had been, they were forcing it out of her, with their vials, the drugs, the poisons, the acrid black liquids they pumped into her, needles pushed into her veins as her own blood betrayed her and carried the venom through her body.
They were making her forget, the Academy, friends she’d made, lives she’d left behind, parents, they were pulling it away, and she fought them, God she fought, thrashing wildly against the straps that bound, against the hands that clasped tightly.
She fought, struggled bitterly to keep it all within, a thousand faces flashed before her, smiling faces, faces stained with tears, screwed up in laughter, faces of the ones she’d lived with and loved.
Loved…Logan…his face, the strong jaw, that familiar stubble, and the eyes, feral passionate eyes…
Hold on…hold on, hold it in. Logan…help me fight to hold it in.
‘Can’t, won’t let ya take this from me,’ but it was fading, slipping out of her fingers. They were fighting to make her forget, forcing her to let them go, the thousand faces, the thousand lives, the thousand memories.
And she was forgetting, despite all her efforts she was losing, they were taking it all away, and in the fight to survive she was forgetting it all, leaving it all behind, becoming what they wanted her to be.
Hold on…hold on, hold it in.
But how…how do ah hold on?
‘She was the best part of her, the strongest; the only thing worth remembering, but stupid bitch couldn’t see it for what it was.’
Logan growled, his claws inched out of his knuckles, snaking out silently, the anger at her words getting the better of him, ‘Don’t ya talk ‘bout her like that…’
‘Guess ah should know better than get into an argument with you, huh Logan, ‘cos let’s face it, ya sure know how to leave your mark on a girl.’ She laughed loudly, and turned her face to the side, leaning up to the rear view mirror to inspect the bruise above her eye, the bruise that had come from Logan pushing Marie into the bathroom.
‘That was an accident, ‘ he snapped back, suddenly wary of being on the back foot, he hadn’t forgotten what he’d done, he had the visual reminder of it every time he looked at her, and he hated himself enough for it.
She smiled and scoffed, ‘Sure it was baby, but ain’t that supposed to be her line?’ Her dark eyes bore into him, ‘Your ability to settle an argument aside, why’d ya still care, she told ya to fuck off remember, do yourself a favour and listen to her.’
Logan snapped his eyes to her, she was staring at him, that cold hard look returned, utterly without compassion, without the light, without remorse. ‘She needs me…’ he spoke clearly but the words sounded doubtful even to his own ears, who was he trying to convince, her or himself?
She shook her head, ‘She doesn’t need ya sugah, she’s got us…’
Logan’s eyes narrowed and he fought the urge to grab her about the shoulders and shake her, the damn confusion ‘bout this whole mess was makin’ his head spin.
Us…? What the fuck did that mean?
She struggled through the sounds, the cacophony of noises that crowded in on her, a thousand voices all screaming at her, and she ran, pushing the darkness aside, her breath came in hurried, haggard gasps, fighting, fighting to get back.
Back to what she remembered, and what she had once known, she remembered who she was, what she was, Marie D’Ancanto, not them, not the others but herself, just me. She pushed them aside, ghostly voices, ghostly arms that reached up to grab at her, to pull her back, into the waters, into the noises that drowned her.
But she ached for it, fought for it, the peace of silence, the comfort in being alone, empty and alone, don’t want anyone else up there, don’t need ya, leave me alone…leave…leave
She gasped at last, a desperate gulping of air, when a drowning man finally breaks through the surface of the water and takes in greedy, hungry gasps of precious air, that was what she felt, she was free…Oh God, she was free.
But she was not, not quite through the surface, not yet. She could see herself sat on the front seat of the SUV holding a gun under Logan’s chin. And the screaming started all over again.
‘There’s more than one of you in there?’ Logan spoke at last, realisation coming to dawn on him at last, a punch to the guts and a kick to the teeth.
She nodded, ‘We saved her, in the woods, she learnt what to do through us, there are many of us, hundreds of us, poured into her, called upon when she needs us, saving her, keeping her alive.’
‘Hundreds…?’ Logan gasped, the number was unfathomable, one would have been bad enough, but hundreds, others, but then, where was Marie? Was she still in there; was there even room for her up there any more?
She saw the question that hung about his lips, that held in his haunted gaze, ‘She’s still here ya know, rattling around even though she’s weak. Ya’d be proud of her Logan, she’s fightin’ ya know.’
The triumphant smile returned to her face and this time Logan did not hesitate, he grasped her about the shoulders, his fingers dug deep into her skin and he gritted his teeth, wanting to bruise, wanting to hurt, this thing, these things that had taken her from him.
Marie…Marie, are you really gone?
But in the same instant the gun was pointed at his stomach, pushing past the fabric of his shirt, cold metal meeting warm skin.
‘Let her go Logan, let Marie go, nothing left but a hole where she used to be, she ain’t strong enough to fight us all, she ain’t strong enough to fight me.’
He brought his face close to hers, ‘Sweetheart there ain’t a cold day in hell that’s gonna see me let go of Marie without a fight.’
The rage took over, if they had taken her, if she really was gone, he would take them. Rip them apart, until they gave her back, the Wolverine inside raged and saw red, they had taken his mate, and now he would take them, he would take them all, hundreds of them if he had to.
He pushed her; with incredible force he pushed her out of the passenger door, she tumbled backwards, the gun was raised and she fired, he felt the bullet rip through his shoulder, the impact threw him backwards as well.
He watched as she flew out of the truck, the passenger door flying through the air with, he was pinned back against his own door, his head smashed against the glass and shattered it, and through the confetti of broken glass he saw her land with a hard thud, saw her roll down the embankment.
He pulled himself up and followed her out of the truck, his claws unsheathed at last, and his growl, of anger, of hate and revenge, a growl that was pure Wolverine rang through the still air and sent the birds scurrying from the trees.
He stalked his way down that hill after her, claws sharp and ready, his need for blood heightened.
‘No…NO! What are you doin’ I’m here; I’m right here…stop!’ Marie screamed up at him even as he towered over her, his claws catching the bright sunlight and blinding her.
She saw him and she smiled, even as he pulled her up the claws digging into her flesh, ready to tear her apart, she smiled. ‘Can ya do it?’ She sneered at him, ‘Can ya kill her, knowing she’s inside, she’s in here Logan, are ya ready to spill her guts?’
‘LIAR!’ He screamed at her, she was gone, you said she was gone. This is a trick, he raised his claws, arm tensed and ready, and he looked into her eyes at last, defiant eyes, chocolate brown eyes, darkened over, not a hint of compassion, no light, no life, she was gone.
Marie...I’m sorry, my darlin’ girl,I’m so sorry.
‘LOGAN!’ She screamed, Marie screamed at him, pushing past the voices, pushing past this thing that clung to her, this blackness, hold on…hold on to it, hold it in…I’m right here…I’m right here…’
And she saw it at last, the tiniest chink of light, the faintest spark, flinging her arm outwards she grasped at it…fighting to break through the surface…
‘LOGAN…!’
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Author's Chapter Notes:
She saw him and she smiled, even as he pulled her up, the claws digging into her flesh, ready to tear her apart, she smiled. ‘Can ya do it?’ She sneered at him, ‘Can ya kill her, knowing she’s inside, she’s in here Logan, are ya ready to spill her guts?’
The problem with voices in your head is that they don't always leave when you want them to. And what happens when the strongest voice isn't on your side and hell bent on getting you killed? Poor Marie, she just can't seem to catch a break...
A/N:Sorry for the delay and the evil cliffie, it's becoming a nasty sort of habit.
The problem with voices in your head is that they don't always leave when you want them to. And what happens when the strongest voice isn't on your side and hell bent on getting you killed? Poor Marie, she just can't seem to catch a break...
A/N:Sorry for the delay and the evil cliffie, it's becoming a nasty sort of habit.